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LIBRARY 


THE 


LIFE    AND    TIMES 


OF 


GOETHE. 


BY 

HERMAN    GRIMM. 


TRANSLATED  BY 

SARAH  HOLLAND  ADAMS. 


BOSTON: 
LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY. 

1880. 


Copyright,  1880, 
BY  SARAH  HOLLAND  ADAMS. 


UNIVERSITY  PRESS: 
JOHN  WILSON  AND  Sox,  CAMBRIDGE. 


THIS   TRANSLATION 

IS  RESPECTFULLY  DEDICATED  TO 

RALPH    WALDO   EMERSON, 

THE   FRIEND   OF   THE   AUTHOR,   THE   FRIEND   OF   TRANSLATORS   AND 

TRANSLATIONS,   AND   THE    INSPIRATION   OF   MANY 

GREAT   MEN   IN  ALL  COUNTRIES. 


THESE  lectures  are  not  intended  to  give  a  biog- 
raphy of  Goethe,  but  to  show  in  what  sense  he 
was  at  once  the  most  real,  as  well  as  the  most 
ideal,  man  and  poet  that  ever  lived. 

I  ask  for  the  labor  bestowed  on  this  translation 
the  mercy  of  the  reader,  and  a  measure  of  grati- 
tude that  even  so  -much  of  the  intrinsic  meaning 
of  a  very  valuable  work  can  be  shared  by  another 
public  than  the  one  for  which  it  was  written. 

A  perfect  translation  would  be  simply  a  re-crea- 
tion, possible  only  to  the  genius  of  the  author. 
Zelle,  of  Berlin,  says  Hegel  could  be  translated 
into  Greek,  but  never  into  English.  No  transla- 
tion can  ever  bring  out  the  fine  psychological 
differences  imbedded  in  the  deposits  of  language ; 
but  what  enthusiasm,  sympathy,  and  earnest  study 
can  do  toward  rendering  a  clear  translation,  I 
have  devoted  to  this  work,  —  the  fruit  of  my  visit 
to  Germany,  and  the  honor,  as  well  as  advan- 
tage, derived  from  personal  acquaintance  with  its 
author. 

S.   H.   A. 
BERLIN,  August,  1880. 


TO    THE    TRANSLATOR. 


I  RETURN  to  you  herewith  the  manuscript  of  your  translation  of 
my  book,  which  you  have  intrusted  to  me.  I  have  compared  it 
carefully,  and  find  it  excellent.  It  will  be  a  pleasure  to  me  if  your 
work  is  printed  in  your  fatherland. 

I  am  very  much  indebted  to  America.  I  can  indeed  say  that  no 
author,  with  whose  writings  I  have  lately  become  acquainted,  has 
had  such  an  influence  upon  me  as  Emerson.  The  manner  of  writ- 
ing of  this  man,  whom  I  hold  to  be  the  greatest  of  all  living 
authors,  has  revealed  to  me  a  new  way  of  expressing  thought. 
Although  I  grew  up  in  the  study  of  Goethe,  and  had  had  much 
intercourse  with  those  who  have  known  him  personally,  I  am  in- 
debted to  Emerson  for  the  historical  view  of  Goethe,  which  taught 
me  to  regard  him  as  the  great  phenomenon  in  the  universal  devel- 
opment, of  mankind.  In  this  sense  I  have  sought  to  represent  him 
in  these  lectures. 

Should  you  give  this  letter  a  place  in  the  introduction  to  your 
translation,  permit  me  to  add  a  few  words  which  are  addressed  to 
my  countrymen  in  America. 

I  have  been  told  that  many  Germans  in  America  undervalue  their 
own  language  and  read  only  English  books.  Without  doubt  it  is 
right  and  necessary  to  speak  the  language  in  which  the  fortunes  of 
the  country  are  decided,  where  one  lives,  and  which  one  calls  his 
fatherland.  But  how  much  would  he  lose  who  would  thereby  for- 
get his  own  language  !  Should  my  book,  as  an  English  translation, 
enter  the  household  of  such  a  German,  it  may  be  that  he  and  his 
family  will  learn  what  a  man  Goethe  was,  and  what  an  inestimable 
benefit  it  is  to  be  able  to  read  his  works  in  his  own  language. 

May  this  book  help  to  draw  still  nearer  together  the  two  nations 
of  the  earth,  who  have  before  them  the  most  glorious  future. 

HERMAN  GRIMM. 
BERLIN,  May,  1880. 


CONTENTS. 


LECTURE.  PAQI 

I.    INTRODUCTION 1 

II.    PLAN  OF  THE  LECTURES.  —  GOETHE'S  FIRST  FRANK- 
FORT   DAYS.  —  STUDY    OF    LAW    IN    LEIPSIC.  — 

CHANGE  TO  STRASBURG 18 

III.  LIFE  IN  STRASBURG.  —  HERDER.  —  NEW  IDEAS  OF 

THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY 38 

IV.  FREDERIKA  IN  SESENHEIM. —  DOCTOR'S  DEGREE. — 

RETURN  TO  FRANKFORT 57 

V.    PRACTISING    LAW.  —  His    PARENTS.  —  MERCK.  — 

"GoTZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN  " 77 

VT.  GOTZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN 93 

"VII.  THE  SORROWS  OF  YOUNG  WERTHER 117 

VIII.  "WERTHER"  . 140 

IX.  LAVATER 167 

X.  FRITZ  JACOBI.  —  SPINOZA 184 

XI.      LlLLI   SCHOENEMANN 210 

XII.    WEIMAR.  —  ANNA  AMALIA.  —  VON  FRITSCH.  —  WIE- 

LAND 231 

Xni.  FRAU  VON  STEIN 247 

XIV.  CARL  AUGUST  AND  GOETHE  IN  THE  TEN  YEARS  .  .  264 

XV.  THE  GERMAN  AND  THE  ROMAN  IPHIGENIA  .  283 


Vlll  CONTENTS. 

LECTURE.  PAOX 

XVI.    ROME 302 

XVII.    THE    END  OF    "IPHIGENIA." —  "  TASSO."  —  CHRIS- 

TIANE. —  "ROMAN  ELEGIES" 321 

XVIII.  ROME.  —  SICILY. — NAPLES.  —  PHILIPP  HACKEET. — 
SECOND  SOJOURN  IN  ROME.  —  RETURN  TO  WKI- 
MAK. SCHILLEE 343 

XIX.    SCHILLER  AND  GOETHE.  —  THEIR  ESTRANGEMENT     .    364 

XX.    GOETHE'S  SECLUSION.  —  THE  UNION  WITH  SCHILLER. 

—  SCHILLER'S  WIPE 383 

XXI.    GOETHE  AND  SCHILLER  IN  WEIMAR 404 

XXII.     SCHILLER  AND  GOETHE 420 

XXIII.  STUDY   OP   NATURAL    SCIENCE.  —  "  THE    NATURAL 

DAUGHTER."  — "  ELECTIVE  AFFINITIES  ".    .     .    .    442 

XXIV.  GOETHE  AS  A  POLITICIAN. — NAPOLEON.  —  "FAUST"    475 
XXV.    "FAUST."  — CONCLUSION  .  500 


CHRONOLOGICAL  TABLE 527 

INDEX  537 


LECTURE   I. 

INTRODUCTION. 

TT  is  ninety-nine  years,  almost  to  a  day,  since  GOETHE 
•*•  appeared  for  the  first  time  in  "Weimar.  It  was  on 
the  seventh  of  November,  1775,  when,  in  his  twenty- 
sixth  year,  he  responded  to  the  call  of  the  Duke,  who 
had  himself  hardly  reached  his  twentieth  year. 

Goethe,  although  even  then  enjoying  the  reputation  of 
a  poet,  both  in  and  out  of  Germany,  was  just  entering 
that  higher  ground  for  intellectual  activity,  and  begin- 
ning that  career  in  which  for  himself  and  for  us  he 
became  what  he  is,  and  what  is  comprehended  in  the 
single  word  Goethe.  From  his  advent  in  Weimar  the 
century  moves  on,  stamped  with  the  name  of  Goethe. 

Goethe  has  worked  in  the  intellectual  life  of  Germany 
as  some  great  physical  phenomenon  might  work  in  the 
realm  of  Nature.  Our  coal  formations  tell  of  times  of 
tropic  warmth,  when  palms  grew  in  this  land.  Recently 
explored  caverns  speak  of  ice-periods,  when  the  reindeer 
was  at  home  among  us.  In  enormous  spaces  of  time 
radical  changes  have  been  produced  in  the  German  soil, 
which  in  its  present  condition  bears  so  much  the  appear- 
ance of  eternal  unchangeableness.  And,  to  carry  our 
simile  further,  Goethe  has  affected  the  spiritual  atmos- 


2  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

phere  much  like  some  telluric  event,  which  raised  the 
average  climatic  warmth  a  certain  number  of  degrees.  If 
this  were  to  happen  we  should  have  another  vegetation, 
another  kind  of  cultivation,  and  with  this  an  entirely  new 
foundation  for  our  whole  existence. 

Goethe  has  created  our  language  and  literature.  Be- 
fore him  both  of  them  were  valueless  in  the  world- 
market  of  the  European  nations.  Such  statements  must 
be  received  as  referring  not  to  the  exceptions  but  to  the 
average  product.  In  the  year  1801,  when  Goethe  and  his 
followers  had  already  accomplished  the  principal  part  of 
that  which  could  be  done  for  the  regeneration  of  the  Ger- 
man language,  Karl  August  still  speaks  of  the  "  pitiful 
German  tongue  from  which  Schiller  has  wrung  the  sweet- 
est melody."  Goethe  himself,  fifteen  years  earlier,  had 
spoken  much  more  severely  of  the  German  language. 

When  Goethe  began  to  write,  the  German  language 
was  as  limited  in  its  general  influence  as  the  German 
national  interest  in  our  politics.  The  nation  existed, 
had  a  silent  consciousness  of  its  worth,  and  a  presenti- 
ment of  its  future  course  ;  but  that  was  all.  Among 
the  criticisms  which  Goethe  wrote  in  the  beginning  of 
his  literary  career,  he  speaks  of  the  meaning  of  patri- 
otism, and  asks  how  one  could  demand  of  us  such  a 
feeling  as  inspired  the  Romans,  who  felt  themselves  to 
be  citizens  of  a  world-embracing  empire.  Any  influence 
beyond  our  own  borders  seemed  to  us  impossible.  The 
English,  French,  and  Italian  critics  noticed  German 
literary  productions  only  so  far  as  our  authors  (by 
way  of  addition  to  foreign  literature)  allowed  their  works 
to  appear  as  a  part  of  the  same.  Frederic  the  Great,  if 
perchance  he  had  the  honor  to  he  named  at  all,  was 
counted  in  Paris  among  French  authors,  and  regarded 
himself  as  such. 


INTKODUCTIOtf.  3 

French  was  spoken  in  all  circles  of  North  Germany, 
and  it  ranked  as  the  second  mother-tongue.  In  Austria 
the  Italian  language  prevailed.  Voltaire  discusses,  in 
the  article  "  Langue  "  of  the  Encyclopedia,  the  peculi- 
arities of  different  languages  as  forms  of  literary  expres- 
sion ;  and  in  this  the  German  is  not  mentioned  at  all. 
Not  until  Goethe's  "  Werther "  had  been  devoured  by 
the  French  and  English,  and  had  penetrated  even  into 
Italy,  was  the  possibility  conceded  in  foreign  countries  of 
German  literature  of  a  higher  rank. 

Attempts  had  often  been  made  before  Goethe  so  far 
to  perfect  the  German  language  that  expression  might 
be  found  in  it  for  the  finer  shades  of  thought ;  but  be- 
yond a  personal  circle  these  efforts  were  unsuccessful. 
Klopstock,  Lessing,  and  Wlnckelmann,  while  they  availed 
tbemselves  of  the  forms  of  the  classic  languages  and  of 
French  and  Italian,  sought  to  create  their  own  German  ; 
but  all  without  radical  effect.  Herder  had  been  more 
successful  in  giving  higher  qualities  to  German  prose 
than  any  other  writer,  save  Goethe.  Herder  assisted 
Goethe  more  than  any  one  in  producing  a  true  living 
German  language,  which  later  authors  have  been  taught 
by  him  to  write.  This  Goethe  did  by  collecting  together 
and  turning  to  advantage  the  work  of  all  those  who  had 
preceded  him.  Goethe  would  ascribe  this  service  to 
Wieland,  but  he  has  himself  in  reality  cast  all  other 
attempts  into  the  shade.  It  was  Goethe's  verses  which 
made  Schiller's  flow ;  and  he  lent  to  Schlegel  the  fulness 
whereby  he  converted  Shakspeare  almost  into  a  German 
poet. 

Goethe's  prose  has  become  by  degrees,  in  all  depart- 
ments of  intellectual  life,  the  standard  form  of  expres- 
sion. Through  Schelling  it  has  penetrated  into  philos- 
ophy ;  through  Savigny  into  jurisprudence ;  through 


4  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

Alexander  von  Humboldt  into  natural  science ;  and 
through  Wilhelm  von  Humboldt  into  philology.  We  are 
even  indebted  to  Goethe  for  our  present  style  of  letter- 
writing.  Innumerable  expressions  which  we  now  use 
without  questioning  their  source,  because  they  seem  to 
stand  so  naturally  at  our  command,  would  without 
Goethe  have  been  sealed  to  us. 

Out  of  this  unity  of  the  language  arose  among  us  the 
true  fellowship  in  higher  intellectual  enjoyment  to  which 
we  are  solely  indebted  for  our  political  unity,  —  a  unity 
which  could  never  have  been  achieved  without  the  un- 
ceasing activity  of  those  whom  we,  in  the  highest  sense, 
call  "  the  educated,"  and  to  whom  Goethe  first  gave  the 
common  direction. 

Before  Goethe  there  were  three  great  poets,  who  ex- 
erted over  the  nations  from  which  they  sprung  a  power 
which  may  be  compared  with  the  influence  of  Goethe  in 
Germany,  —  Homer,  Dante,  and  Shakspeare.  All  that  is 
comprehended  in  the  term  "  spiritual  influence  "  is  espe- 
cially to  be  claimed  as  the  effect  wrought  by  these  men 
on  Greeks,  Italians,  and  English :  each  in  a  different 
way,  it  is  true ;  but  the  success  of  each  places  them 
in  almost  equal  rank.  In  every  single  Greek,  Italian, 
and  Englishman  can  the  chain,  as  it  were,  be  traced 
which  binds  him  irrevocably  to  one  of  these  three  great 
leaders  of  the  people.  Without  them  Greece  and  Italy 
would  be  cold  political  abstractions.  Homer  and  Dante 
have  called  into  being  the  higher  unity  of  Greece  and 
Italy,  which  stands  far  above  "the  political.  And  who 
knows  what  an  exalted  role  Shakspeare  may  yet  play, 
if  the  fragments  of  English-speaking  peoples,  the  world 
over,  shall  at  some  time  seek  for  a  supreme  authority  in 
whose  word  they  may  feel  themselves  united  ?  And  who 
knows  what  offices  are  reserved  for  Goethe  in  Germany 


INTRODUCTION.  5 

in  the  future  changes  of  our  destiny  ?  But  let  us  speak 
of  what  he  has  already  accomplished.  No  poet  or  thinker 
since  the  time  of  Luther  has  worked  in  so  many  different 
directions  at  once,  and  permeated  with  his  influence  four 
successive  generations,  as  Goethe  has  done.  How  wholly 
unlike  was  Voltaire's  work  in  France  !  So  far  as  quan- 
tity is  concerned,  Voltaire  embraced  far  more  ;  certainly 
he  worked  more  intensively  than  Goethe.  Also  during 
his  life  his  writings  penetrated  more  instantaneously, 
deeply,  and  widely  among  the  people.  But  he  was  not  so 
unresistingly  believed  in  ;  he  did  not  stand  upon  the  same 
moral  height  with  Goethe.  Voltaire  destroyed ;  Goethe 
built  up.  Again,  Goethe  never  tried  to  create  a  party 
for  a  momentary  aim ;  he  always  granted  his  rivals  full 
scope ;  his  immortal  weapons  were  too  precious  to  be 
used  against  mortals.  Goethe  worked  quietly  and  im- 
perceptibly, like  Nature  herself.  We  see  him  every- 
where recognized,  without  envy,  as  a  man  raised  above 
men :  "  an  Olympian,  enthroned  over  the  world,"  Jean 
Paul  calls  him ;  to  whom  no  one  could  give  anything, 
who  was  enough  to  himself.  Goethe  stands  lifted  above 
love  and  aversion.  The 'few  who  have  acknowledged 
themselves  his  enemies  appear  from  the  outset  to  have 
much  trouble  in  maintaining  their  stand-point,  while 
to-day  they  seem  utterly  incomprehensible.  And,  even 
as  regards  these,  it  was  good  fortune  for  any  one  to  have 
been  in  relation  with  Goethe ;  and  it  was  impossible  to 
ignore  him. 

Almost  too  much  appears  to  have  been  said  about 
Goethe  even  now.  An  entire  library  of  publications 
concerning  him  exists.  This  increases  daily ;  latterly 
scarcely  a  week  has  passed  in  which,  either  here  or  there, 
something  new  about  him  has  not  been  printed.  And 
yet  these  labors  dedicated  to  him  are  but  the  faint 


6  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

beginnings  of  a  work  which  must  stretch  on  to  a  bound- 
less future.  Goethe's  first  century  only  has  elapsed ;  but 
to  none  of  the  following,  so  far  as  the  future  can  be 
foretold,  will  be  spared  the  trouble  of  ever  anew  reshap- 
ing Goethe  for  themselves.  The  German  people  must 
change  their  nature  before  they  will  cease  to  do  this. 
For  thousands  of  years  there  has  been  a  science  called 
Homeric,  which  has  had  its  disciples  in  uninterrupted 
succession  ;  for  hundreds  of  years,  one  that  bears  the 
name  of  Dante,  and  one  that  bears  Shakspeare's  name : 
henceforth  there  will  be  one  called  Goethe.  His  name 
long  since  designated  not  his  person  alone,  but  the  cir- 
cumference of  a  whole  domain.  Each  generation  will 
believe  that  it  comprehends  his  nature  better :  never, 
until  now,  the  right  stand-point  seems  to  have  been 
attained  from  which  Goethe  can  be  impartially  studied. 
Opinions  in  regard  to  his  work  will  vary ;  he  will  appear 
to  stand  nearer  to,  or  farther  from,  the  German  people, 
according  to  the  character  of  the  times  :  but  he  will  never 
be  wholly  dethroned,  never  be  resolved  into  himself,  — 
never  melt  as  a  glacier,  of  which,  when  the  last  drop  has 
run  away,  nothing  remains.  If,  however,  that  should  hap- 
pen which  has  happened  to  Homer,  that  after  the  lapse  of 
thousands  of  years,  when  our  German  shall  have  ceased  to 
be  a  living  language,  wholly  distant  generations  may  be 
unable  to  conceive  that  a  single  man  could  have  created  so 
many  and  such  various  kinds  of  works,  —  then  may  the 
learned  men,  who  will  certainly  for  a  time  be  believed, 
affirm  that  Goethe  is  to  be  interpreted  only  as  a  myth- 
ical name,  under  which  the  entire  intellectual  work  of 
his  age  was  comprehended. 

It  would  seem  as  if  already  the  time  approached  in 
which  the  German  people,  after  having  gone  too  far  in  their 
adoration  of  Goethe,  were  inclined  in  some  degree  to 


INTRODUCTION".  7 

withdraw  their  homage.  But  this  is  only  an  appearance. 
A  few  have  tried  to  represent  Goethe  as  a  discarded 
aristocrat,  who  had  rendered  his  service  and  might  rest. 
Such  things  have  been  said ;  but  what  begins  to  be 
strange  to  us  about  him  is  not  what  Goethe  is  in  him- 
self, but  the  image  bearing  his  name  which  the  last 
generation  formed  of  him.  We  live  in  a  new  era,  which 
must  create  anew  its  own  image  of  him :  it  overthrows 
the  old  one,  but  does  not  touch  Mm.  To-day,  more  than 
ever,  it  is  important  that  our  attention  should  be  turned 
to  him  ;  but  another  stand-point  must  be  accepted. 

This  change  of  stand-point  is  the  natural  result  of  the 
different  position  we  occupy  in  Germany  to-day  towards 
all  historical  inquiry.  Before  Germany  was  united  and 
free,  and  stood  politically  on  her  own  feet,  the  aim  of 
our  historical  labor  was  to  burrow  into  the  past,  out  of 
which,  as  secret  advocates  of  a  course  of  proceeding  which 
we  did  not  dare  openly  to  call  by  the  right  name,  we  ven- 
tured to  initiate  for  ourselves  a  better  Present.  All  his- 
torical work  bore  the  secret  motto,  "  It  is  impossible 
that  things  in  Germany  should  remain  as  they  are." 

But  within  the  last  twenty-five  years,  with  the  aid  of 
this  scholarly  labor,  the  revolution  has  been  accom- 
plished which  we  may  now  regard  as  finished.  We 
possess  a  Present  far  exceeding  our  expectations. 
Its  benefits  are  no  longer  something  to  be  struggled 
after  or  hoped  for,  but  to  be  held  fast,  developed,  and 
utilized.  With  the  light  of  this  freshly  dawning  day, 
the  times  which  lie  behind  us  take  on  a  new  aspect. 
We  no  longer  seek  in  them  the  weapons  which  might 
avail  us  in  obtaining  freedom,  but  we  seek  after  those 
which,  the  struggle  for  liberty  being  successfully  ended, 
will  strengthen  us  in  the  position  won,  and  render  per- 
manent the  possession  of  the  blessings  gained.  We  seek 


8  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

to  fathom  the  nature  of  historical  movements,  and  to 
regulate  our  own  in  conformity  to  them.  Many  things 
so  contemplated  take  on  a  wholly  new  meaning.  Splen- 
dors fade,  and  things  which  were  despised  rise  into  un- 
dreamed-of importance.  Goethe,  to  whose  nature  every 
form  of  agitation  was  foreign,  and  who  —  especially  in  his 
later  years,  when  his  opinion  was  most  frequently  asked 
—  had  the  appearance  and  seemed  to  have  the  style  of 
thinking  of  a  comfortable  conservative,  as  statesman  and 
historian  now  takes  a  new  position.  We  perceive  in  him 
one  of  those  who  most  confidently  foresaw  our  present 
freedom,  and  prepared  the  ground  for  it.  We  read  with 
astonishment  how  accurately  he  prophesied  the  revolu- 
tionary agitation  of  the  latter  half  of  the  nineteenth 
century.  We  understand  how  he  came  to  look  upon  the 
dead  calm  in  which  his  last  years  fell  as  an  unavoidable 
necessity  ;  we  see  how  he  held  steadfastly  in  view  the 
free  future  of  his  country,  and  quietly  gave  to  his  works 
the  material  needed  for  these  days.  Goethe's  labor 
helped  to  create  the  soil  on  which  we  to-day  sow  and 
reap  ;  he  belongs  among  the  foremost  founders  of  Ger- 
man freedom  ;  without  him,  in  spite  of  all  our  conquests, 
we  should  be  wanting  in  the  ideas  which  enable  us  to 
derive  the  noblest  benefits  from  them. 

Naturally,  when  things  of  this  kind  come  before  us 
as  a  new  discovery,  the  career  of  such  a  man  is  to  be 
historically  reconstructed. 

What,  then,  was  Goethe  in  his  main  characteristics? 
Among  the  many  who  struggled  and  aspired  with  him,  he 
was  the  most  powerful  and  the  most  successful :  one  for 
whom  Fate  manifestly  smoothed  the  way ;  a  husbandman 
cultivating  the  field  of  the  mind,  with  never  a  sterile 
year,  but  ever  the  full  harvest.  It  might  be  a  dry  or  a 
rainy  year,  but  Goethe  always  had  his  fruit  set  in  the 


INTRODUCTION.  9 

very  field  to  which  the  weather  was  favorable.  His  pro- 
gress was  never  interrupted  by  useless  delays,  to  which 
he  must  look  back  as  upon  so  much  lost  time.  He  was 
healthy,  handsome,  and  vigorous.  He  always  lived  fully 
in  the  present  and  in  his  surroundings,  and  was  at  the 
same  time  far  in  advance  of  the  general  progress  of  man- 
kind. With  an  ever-upward  development,  even  to  his 
latest  days,  he  experienced  the  whole  destiny  of  man  on 
earth.  It  is  well  to  consider  the  sum-total  of  his  years. 

Goethe  had  a  twofold  life  measured  out  to  him,  whose 
latter  half,  indeed,  proved  most  important  to  the  full 
completion  of  that  which  he  had  begun  in  the  earlier 
part.  He  was  allowed  to  enter  into  the  enjoyment  of  a 
secure  and  undisturbed  inheritance  of  the  conquests  of 
his  youth,  as  if  he  were  his  own  heir  and  successor  to  the 
throne.  To  how  few  has  been  granted  this  privilege ! 
The  latter  half  of  the  lives  of  Lessing  and  Herder  were 
blighted.  Schiller  began  gradually  to  die  just  as  he  was 
beginning  really  to  live  ;  Just  as  lie  had  begun  to  unfold 
his  capacities,  and  freely  to  make  the  most  of  his  creative 
power.  "We  recall  the  names  of  many  others,  whose  ca- 
reer was  interrupted  before  their  fortieth  year,  although 
they  seemed  to  possess  a  vigor  which  should  not  have 
been  exhausted  in  double  that  number  of  years.  It  is 
curious  to  reflect  with  what  doubtful  aspects  Goethe 
himself  entered  on  the  second  portion  of  his  life.  He 
seemed  to  be  intellectually  exhausted.  We  gather  from 
many  observations  made  at  the  close  of  the  last  century 
and  the  beginning  of  this,  that  his  friends  in  Weimar 
and  his  admirers  all  over  Germany  had  resigned  them- 
selves to  the  idea  that  he  had  passed  his  prime.  The 
cool,  reserved  Privy  Councillor  with  the  double  chin,  more 
and  more  inclining  to  rest ;  past  the  fiery  days  of  youth, 
—  in  stately  ease  he  keeps  aloof  from  men  and  things  ;  he 


10  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

turns  aside  from  whatever  reminds  him  of  the  old  times. 
He  sees  again  his  friends  the  Jacobis  in  Dusseldorf,  and 
will  read  something  aloud  to  them  :  they  put  "  Iphigenia" 
into  his  hand,  but  he  lays  the  book  aside  ;  it  is  disagree- 
able to  him  to  touch  again  the  old  feelings.  It  is  only  an 
accident  if  something  in  the  verses  which  he  now  writes 
here  and  there  reminds  us  of  what  once  charmed  in  his 
poetry.  Even  those  who  stand  nearest  to  him  realize  this 
change.  They  pity  him,  but  they  must  regard  it  as  a 
change  in  some  degree  common  to  all  men.  Around  him, 
also,  has  grown  up  a  new  generation  (about  whom  he 
scarcely  troubles  himself),  who  would  like  nothing  better 
than  to  shake  off  the  burdensome  authority  of  the  old 
Dictator.  As  a  result  of  the  French  Revolution  there 
prevailed  in  Germany  new  and  unfavorable  conditions, 
which  Goethe  was  unwilling  to  have  anything  to  do  with, 
or  indeed  even  to  try  to  understand.  Schiller  was  the 
man  of  the  day ;  and,  after  he  had  passed  away,  there 
seemed  no  one  left  to  fill  his  and  the  former  Goethe's 
place. 

But  Goethe  soars  again  !  "  Faust "  appears.  With  this 
poem,  in  the  new  century,  Goethe  thrills  all  Germany  as 
if  for  the  first  time.  No  one  had  expected  anything  so 
great.  Once  more  he  carries  the  young  away  with  him, 
while  their  elders  return  to  their  allegiance.  Not  until 
this  time  had  he  taken  complete  possession  of  Germany. 
There  had  always  been  men  among  us  who  had  not  felt 
drawn  to  him.  Baron  Yon  Stein  until  now  had  never 
read  any  of  Goethe's  works,  and  now  first  makes  his  ac- 
quaintance. Goethe's  influence  manifests  itself  in  quite 
a  different  way  from  what  it  had  done  earlier.  On  all 
sides  he  gains  the  ascendancy.  It  now  seems  as  if  he 
only  needed  to  stretch  out  his  hand  to  make  his  power 
felt. 


INTRODUCTION.  11 

Goethe  had  enjoyed  what  are  called  the  best  gifts  of 
Fate  :  he  had  come  at  the  right  time,  and  the  right  time 
had  lasted  for  him  as  long  as  is  permitted  to  mortal  man. 
But  we  pass  on  now  to  speak  of  the  higher  gifts,  —  the 
highest  gifts  of  Fate  ;  and  here  we  see  an  harmonious  de- 
velopment of  spiritual  power,  which  had  perhaps  fallen  to 
the  share  of  others  before  him,  but  which  we  have  never 
been  able  to  observe  in  any  one  as  we  may  observe  it  in 
him.  It  seemed  as  if  Providence  had  placed  him  in  the 
simplest  circumstances,  in  order  that  nothing  should  im- 
pede his  perfect  unfolding.  With  a  very  few  words  his 
whole  outward  life  is  stated. 

The  child  of  rich  people  in  Frankfort,  he  returns  after 
the  ordinary  university  course  is  ended  to  his  native  town, 
a  gradually  declining  Free  City,  to  practise  law.  Meeting 
by  accident  a  Prince,  who  himself  had  but  just  attained 
his  majority,  he  wins  his  confidence,  almost  in  a  child- 
like way,  and  follows  him  to  Weimar,  there  to  take  his 
position  as  Prime  Minister  and  Court  Poet. 

To  the  end,  Goethe  was  never  anything  but  Prime 
Minister  and  Court  Poet  of  Weimar.  He  lived  there  al- 
most uninterruptedly,  and  his  whole  story  is  included 
in  this. 

But  now  we  see  how,  in  the  course  of  years,  he  moulds 
and  shapes  these  at  first  merely  outward  circumstances 
until  they  are  exactly  adapted  to  his  necessities ;  and 
then  how  he  remodels  Weimar  itself,  until  it  becomes  by 
degrees  a  perfectly  satisfactory  soil  to  his  individual  na- 
ture, into  which  he  penetrates  deeply  with  wide-spread 
roots,  and  out  of  which  he  creates  finally  the  principal 
literary  city  of  Germany.  Goethe  was  the  ideal  centre 
of  his  new  Thuringian  /atherland  from  the  day  of  his 
first  appearance  in  it,  and  raised  it  with  himself  to  im- 
mortal renown. 


12  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

And  now  we  can  follow,  step  by  step,  the  way  in  which 
this  was  accomplished. 

Goethe  was  not  the  poet  lost  in  dreams,  nor  the  writer 
sitting  behind,  closed  doors,  whom  nobody  dared  to  dis- 
turb. His  poetical  creations  imperceptibly  perfected 
themselves,  making  small  demands  on  his  time.  Appar- 
ently they  were  merely  amusements  for  leisure  hours,  of 
which  it  was  best  to  say  as  little  as  possible,  lest  they 
should  interfere  with  that  which  Goethe  considered  the 
proper  task  of  his  daily  life.  Goethe  had  time  for  every 
one.  When  he  was  advocate  in  Frankfort,  and  also  when 
he  was  minister  in  Weimar,  in  law  and  government,  he 
attended  to  everything  down  to  the  smallest  detail,  and 
threw  himself  into  the  breach  with  the  weight  of  his  per- 
sonal power  and  his  own  knowledge  of  the  facts,  wher- 
ever the  carrying  through  of  measures  for  the  public  good 
was  under  discussion.  Goethe  was  the  first  member  of 
the  administration  in  Weimar,  and  remained  so  after  he 
had  nominally  withdrawn  himself  from  business  affairs. 
He  not  only  received  the  salary  of  a  minister,  but  he 
gave  the  fullest  possible  equivalent  for  that  salary.  He 
always  bore  in  his  heart  the  destiny  of  the  Duke  and  of 
the  country  for  which  he  was  responsible.  Always,  even 
to  the  last,  Goethe's  personal  authority  was  next  to  the 
Grand  Duke's.  If  he  spoke  of  the  scientific  institutions 
of  Jena,  it  was  just  as  natural  for  him  to  say  "  my  "  in- 
stitutions as  "  our." 

Added  to  these  labors,  as  the  most  responsible  officer 
of  the  government,  was  his  second  work  as  a  scholar. 
There  was  no  department  of  knowledge,  with  perhaps 
the  sole  exception  of  pure  mathematics,  the  progress  of 
which  he  did  not  constantly  follow.  As  naturalist  as 
well  as  historian — meaning  by  these  words  to  designate, 
in  the  most  direct  way,  the  extent  of  all  philological  and 


INTRODUCTION.  13 

philosophical  knowledge  —  he  worked  with  such  zeal  and 
success  that  his  result  in  either  one  or  the  other  of  these 
directions  would  have  satisfactorily  filled  the  whole 
measure  of  the  life  of  a  man.  His  discoveries  are  known. 
The  value  of  his  co-operation  and  sympathy  was  inestima- 
ble to  learned  men.  He  was  familiar  with  many  langua- 
ges, and  in  his  old  age  able  to  master  new  ones. 

The  oversight  of  a  university  devolved  upon  him,  which 
in  those  days  was  of  far  greater  importance  to  Germany 
than  it  is  now,  where  he  called  into  existence  or  promoted 
institutions  for  scientific  purposes,  organized  public  criti- 
cism and  prescribed  its  direction.  And  to  these  duties 
he  added  for  many  years  the  office  of  director  of  the 
Weimar  theatre,  with  here  also  the  most  painstaking  re- 
sponsibility in  regard  to  technical  and  esthetic  details. 
And  finally  all  these  were  only  subordinate  to  the  duties 
of  his  seemingly  highest  office;  namely,  personal  inter- 
course with  innumerable  people  of  all  ages  and  in  every 
position,  which  to  his  contemporaries  appeared  to  be  the 
real  aim  of  his  life. 

Goethe,  without  willing  it,  forced  himself  upon  the 
thoughts  of  men.  He  was  incessantly  talked  of  in 
Weimar  from  the  first  day  of  his  appearance  there  until 
the  last  day  of  his  life.  Every  one  there  was  conscious 
of  his  presence,  and  kept  eyes  and  ears  open  for  him.  If 
ever  he  were  not  talked  of  in  Weimar,  it  was  because  it  was 
simply  impossible  to  speak  only  of  him.  If  we  meet  with 
a  letter  anywhere  which  in  the  course  of  his  life  was 
written  at  Weimar,  we  seek  involuntarily  for  the  mention 
of  Goethe  in  it,  and  are  surprised  if  it  is  omitted.  If  the 
people  have  nothing  else  to  say,  they  announce  at  least 
whether  Goethe  is  at  home,  or  on  a  journey,  —  mention- 
ing the  last  as  an  abnormal  circumstance,  as  if  they  had 
a  right  to  his  presence  among  them. 


14  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

But  his  spiritual  presence  all  Germany  claimed.  From 
unexpected  quarters  fresh  proofs  arise  continually  of  the 
extent  of  Goethe's  influence  with  his  contemporaries.  If 
one  reads  his  correspondence  (of  which  a  great  part  is 
still  unpublished),  one  believes  he  did  nothing  but  re- 
ceive and  answer  letters,  —  and  these  letters  treat  of  all 
the  interests  which  were  afloat  in  the  course  of  an 
epoch.  With  a  tact,  conscientiousness,  assurance,  and 
dexterity,  and  at  the  same  time  with  a  hearty  enjoyment 
which  never  allows  him  to  appear  bored,  but  always  in 
the  best  humor,  he  holds  all  the  threads  in  his  hand  and 
continually  adds  new  ones ;  so  that  what  he  achieves  in 
this  direction  alone  seems  to  prove  him  endowed  with 
superhuman  power.  He  treats  every  one  according  to 
his  nature,  often  with  a  touching  self-forgetfulness. 
Every  one  who  comes  in  contact  with  him,  by  the  instant 
surrender  of  himself,  makes  the  highest  demands  upon 
Goethe ;  and  he  fulfils  them  all.  He  enters  into  the 
details  of  everybody's  case  as  if  he  were  interested  in 
nothing  on  earth  but  precisely  this.  He  talks  with  each 
one  of  his  specialty  as  if  it  were  his  own.  He  wins  the 
confidence  of  all.  Men  yield  themselves  to  him  like  chil- 
dren, and  he  listens  to  each  story  as  if  nothing  had  ever 
moved  him  so  deeply.  Only  once  in  life  to  have  spoken 
with  Goethe,  or  to  have  received  a  letter  from  him,  was 
the  most  brilliant  episode  in  the  experience  of  many 
whose  lives  in  the  main  could  not  be  said  to  have  been 
obscure. 

I  spoke  in  the  beginning  of  the  second  great  period  in 
Goethe's  life. 

Forty  years,  as  intellectual  autocrat,  Goethe  ruled  all 
Germany.  He  had,  as  it  were,  ambassadors  at  all  the 
Courts  who  were  his  champions.  He  has  been  sarcasti- 
cally called  Kunstpabst  (Art  Pope)  ;  and  indeed  he  did 


INTRODUCTION.  15 

represent  something  which  could  be  so  denominated, 
taking  art  in  its 'widest  range.  There  went  out  from  him 
an  irresistible  authority.  In  undertakings  of  the  highest 
kind,  his  favor  and  approval  were  not  likely  to  be  dis- 
pensed with.  He  did  not  always  grant  them  without 
hesitation,  and  he  sometimes  refused  them :  he  had  his 
fixed  policy,  his  traditional  and  fundamental  convictions. 
Early  in  the  nineteenth  century  the  language  of  Goethe 
began  to  be  generally  accepted,  and  was  employed  by 
Goethe  himself  as  an  established  idiom.  And  all  this 
power  grew  slowly  in  a  natural  way  as  the  trees  grow, 
and  without  the  slightest  reference  to  literary  pane- 
gyrics. Goethe  had  such  an  aversion  to  being  forced 
upon  the  public  that  he  too  often  incurred  the  re- 
proach of  being  intentionally  reserved.  His  calm,  self- 
sustained  personality  overcame  all  opposition.  There 
was  much  spoken  and  written  in  Goethe's  favor  from 
the  beginning,  but  it  could  all  have  remained  unsaid 
and  imprinted  without  in  the  least  affecting  his  grand 
position. 

So  he  finally  died,  after  having  lived  to  a  great  age. 
The  entire  land  was  overwhelmed  by  his  loss.  Men  felt 
forlorn  and  orphaned.  But  men  had  to  get  on  without 
him,  and  finally  they  did ;  for  all  that  we  have  recounted 
as  Goethe's  labor  was  as  mortal  as  himself. 

But  now  the  immortal !  As  a  mighty  current  on  whose 
surface  one  neither  sows  nor  reaps  is  yet  the  great 
stream  which  gives  life  to  the  land,  and  without  which 
the  people  would  be  famished  and  desolate,  so  the  stream 
of  Goethe's  poetry  still  enriches  and  animates  the  fields 
through  which  it  flows.  However  much  he  gave  himself 
to  the  throng  of  men  and  affairs,  at  the  same  time  he  was 
solitary ;  and  nothing  shared  his  solitude  but  what  he 
there  created  of  his  own  power  to  be  immortal. 


16  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

Goethe  had  the  inconceivable  capacity  of  living  in  two 
worlds  at  once, — two  worlds  which  he  wholly  united,  and 
which  he  held  at  the  same  time  wholly  distinct.  One  by 
one  the  incidents  of  his  mortal  life  will  contract  to  our 
view.  With  fewer  words  constantly  shall  we  dispose  of 
it.  Ever  more  alone  will  he  seem  to  stand,  until  finally 
nothing  will  remain  but  Goethe,  creator  of  beings  of  fresh 
and  immortal  power. 

Whoever  speaks  as  if  Goethe's  epoch  was  past  should 
ask  himself,  Could  we  in  Germany  to-day  spare  Iphigenia, 
Egmont,  Faust,  Gretchen,  Clarchen,  or  Dorothea?  Do 
they  begin  to  fade ;  does  what  they  say  sound  like  old 
hackneyed  melodies;  are  they  puppets  with  which  the 
children  have  amused  themselves  long  enough  ?  As  little 
is  this  so  as  with  Homer's  Achilles  and  Ulysses,  or  with 
Shakspeare's  Hamlet  and  Juliet !  Goethe  lives  no  more : 
a  very  old  man,  he  died  half  a  century  ago  ;  Shakspeare 
two  hundred  and  fifty,  Homer  three  thousand  years  ago : 
but  they  have  left  behind  to  their  children  the  dowry  of 
imperishable  youth  ;  their  blood  flows  forever  warm,  and 
they  have  lost  none  of  their  first  power.  When  we  who 
are  here  to-day  shall  sit  as  old  people  in  the  theatre,  per- 
haps some  eighteen-year-old  Gretchen  will  come  upon  the 
stage,  and,  as  if  her  sad  destiny  had  never  been  wept  be- 
fore, draw  tears  from  eyes  of  which  we  to-day  know 
nothing.  Homer,  Shakspeare,  and  Goethe  himself  in 
their  immortal  creations  touch  our  hearts.  So  living  are 
their  creations  that  we  almost  think  they  are  the  legiti- 
mate children  of  Nature,  instead  of  having  been  called 
out  of  nothing  by  the  fertile,  inventive  imagination  of  a 
poet. 

But  the  times  when  Goethe  will  be  such  a  stranger  to 
us  are  still  far  in  the  future. 

In  the  mean  time  we  rejoice  in  the  overflowing  sources 


INTRODUCTION.  17 

of  information  with  regard  to  his  life.  To  us  a  most 
important  task  remains,  which  is  to  shape  out  of  the 
abundant  testimony  that  image  of  Goethe  which  will  be 
the  most  helpful,  and  in  which  we  can  have  the  most  con- 
fidence. Let  us  now  attempt  to  form  this  image  in  these 
Lectures. 


18        LIFE  AND  TIMES  OF  GOETHE. 


LECTURE  II. 

x 

PLAN  OP  THE  LECTURES.  —  GOETHE'S  FIRST  FRANKFORT  DAYS. 
—  STUDY  OF  LAW  IN  LEIPSIC.  —  CHANGE  TO  STRASBURG. 

/^OETHE'S  life  is  divided  into  two  periods,  of  unequal 
^  length,  — the  Frankfort  period,  from  1749  to  1776  ; 
and  the  Weimar  period,  from  1776  to  1832. 

Almost  all  his  greatest  works  were  begun  in  the  Frank- 
fort period ;  "  Werther,"  "  Gotz,"  and  "  Clavigo  "  were 
then  published. 

The  Weimar  period  must  also  be  divided.  A  complete 
episode  is  concluded  in  the  first  ten  years,  extending  from 
his  twenty-sixth  to  his  thirty-sixth  year.  When  he  went 
to  Weimar,  he  resigned  the  idea  of  devoting  himself  wholly 
to  poetry.  Having  accepted  a  place  of  great  responsi- 
bility, he  determined  to  be  governed  solely  by  the  desire 
to  devote  his  whole  ability  to  the  service  of  the  Prince 
and  the  interests  of  his  people.  Only  his  leisure  hours 
were  to  be  reserved  for  poetry.  In  this  epoch  "  Iphige- 
nia  "  was  finished  in  its  prose  form  ;  and  "  Tasso,"  "  Eg- 
mont,"  "Wilhelm  Meister,"  and  "Faust"  (for  all  of 
which  he  had  brought  materials  with  him  from  Frank- 
fort) were  carried  forward. 

Then  follows  the  one  striking  year  in  Italy,  which  di- 
vides the  Weimar  epoch.  We  may  regard  this  brief 
period,  so  rich  in  its  experiences  (from  1786  to  1787), 
either  as  the  conclusion  of  the  first,  or  as  the  beginning 


MATERIALS   FOR   THE    STUDY.  19 

of  the  second  period.  In  it  "  Tasso,"  "  Iphigenia,"  and 
"  Egmont  "  received  a  new  and  perfect  form,  while  "  Wil- 
helra  Meister  "  and  "  Faust  "  progressed.  Goethe  re>- 
turns  to  Weimar,  and  the  last  and  longest  period  of  his 
life  begins.  The  struggle  in  his  breast  as  to  what  he 
shall  demand  of  himself,  and  what  others  have  a  right  to 
demand  of  him,  is  over.  Independent  of  outward  co- 
operation, a  calm,  steady  development  goes  on  within  him 
until  lie  attains  absolute  intellectual  clearness.  Even 
the  companionship  with  Schiller,  which  for  a  number  of 
years  affected  him  so  deeply,  makes  no  special  break  in 
his  life.  In  this  long  course  of  years  follow,  one  upon 
another,  the  completion  of  "  Wilhelm  Meister,"  "  Her- 
mann und  Dorothea,"  "  Die  Natiirliche  Tochter,"  "  Das 
Buch  iiber  Winckelmann,"  "  Die  Wahlverwandtschaften," 
"  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit,"  "  Die  italianische  Reise,"  "Der 
westostliche  Divan,"  and  "  Faust."  At  every  stage  we 
meet  "  Faust."  Goethe  began  it  as  a  student,  and  never 
ceased  to  occupy  himself  with  it.  Its  conclusion  was  left 
in  manuscript,  and  not  printed  until  after  his  death. 

In  this  historical  sketch  of  Goethe,  let  us  connect  the 
incidents  of  his  life  with  his  principal  works  as  they 
appear  in  the  course  of  the  three  epochs,  thus  adopting 
the  simplest  plan  for  our  Lectures.  My  delineation  will 
be  based  not  on  any  peculiar  arrangement  of  my  own, 
but  will  follow  the  natural  divisions  of  his  life  and  the 
progress  of  his  works. 

The  material  afforded  us  for  the  study  of  Goethe's  life 
is  very  extensive ;  and  of  this,  in  order  to  give  an  idea 
of  the  whole,  my  division  will  be  somewhat  arbitrary. 
But  it  is  of  little  moment  what  categories  we  accept  if 
only  they  are  comprehensive.  I  divide  the  material  into 
two  parts,  —  his  own  account,  and  the  testimony  of  oth- 
ers. What  a  field  is  opened  to  our  investigation  by  the 


20  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

extraordinary  breadth  of  his  intercourse,  which  reached 
to  the  time  of  his  death,  with  several  generations  of  con- 
temporaries !  During  the  fifty  years  Goethe  was  in  full 
possession  of  his  powers  scarcely  a  significant  man  lived 
in  Germany  who  was  not  almost  forced,  once  in  his  life, 
to  describe  the  relation  he  bore  to  Goethe,  formed  either 
by  his  personal  intercourse  with  the  poet  or  through  his 
works.  These  judgments,  confessions,  or  whatever  form 
their  writers  gave  them,  have  been  often  collected,  and 
whole  series  of  such  intellectual  associations  made  the 
subject  of  special  investigation.  But  we  have  not  yet 
reached  the  end  of  even  the  preliminary  work  ;  and  in  all 
directions  additional  material  is  being  collected. 

Goethe's  personal  evidence  is  of  three  kinds :  first,  his 
works,  as  the  most  important  gauge  of  his  growing 
power  ;  second,  his  diary  and  letters,  as  the  most  trust- 
worthy records  of  each  day  and  hour  ;  third,  his  own 
biographical  attempts,  showing  how  his  life,  as  a  com- 
pleted work,  stood  in  his  own  eyes. 

Our  second  division  of  the  biographical  material  here 
is  of  immense  scope.  Its  extent  is  not  yet  wholly  known. 
Goethe's  works  lie  in  many  editions  before  us ;  but  we 
can  follow  only  certain  of  them  through  all  the  stages  of 
their  development.  Many  letters,  and  the  like,  are  still 
wanting.  Entire  correspondences  are  missing,  or  in  a 
mutilated  form ;  and  only  the  smallest  part  of  his  diaries 
is  known.  But  what  we  possess  is  so  much  that  it 
requires  some  experience  to  find  our  way  through  the 
labyrinth. 

Unceasingly  to  render  an  account  to  himself  and  others 
of  his  thoughts  and  actions  was  Goethe's  peculiarity.  It 
seems  as  if  Nature  had  foreseen  that  every  hour  of  his  life 
would  be  of  importance,  and  had  furnished  Goethe  with  a 
wholly  extraordinary  capacity  to  gratify  our  desire  for 


HIRZEL'S  CHRONOLOGICAL  INDEX.  21 

knowledge  in  this  respect.  Goethe  was  the  greatest  re- 
porting genius  ;  pen  and  paper  were  his  natural  tools.  In 
moments  of  intense  enthusia-sm,  when  alone  with  himself, 
unless  his  thoughts  become  a  poem,  he  knows  no  better 
outlet  for  his  emotions  than  to  write  down,  as  faithfully 
as  possible,  all  he  feels.  Now-a-days  we  have  so  com- 
pletely lost  the  habit  of  committing  our  thoughts  and 
feelings  to  paper,  that  this  peculiarity  of  a  former  gen- 
eration calls  for  especial  remark.  In  the  very  moment 
of  feeling,  people  in  Goethe's  time  sought  to  represent 
their  emotion  in  words,  and  thus  to  enhance  their  enjoy- 
ment,—  not  consciously  for  others,  but  for  themselves, 
and  not  with  the  intention  of  producing  a  literary  effect. 
They  fell  upon  pen  and  paper  as  if  it  were  impossible  to 
feel  without  recording  what  was  felt. 

Of  such  pages  we  have  a  quantity  from  Goethe's  own 
hand.  Many  of  his  works  are,  as  it  were,  composed  of 
them  ;  and  all  record  inward  experiences  so  transformed 
by  imagination  that  the  individual  is  eliminated  and  re- 
solved into  the  universal.  Various  persons  in  the  same 
story  are  often  repetitions  of  their  author ;  so  that,  in 
many  dialogues,  it  is  only  Goethe  talking  with  himself. 
Therefore  his  works,  unless  abused  by  indiscreet  inter- 
pretation, furnish  most  important  material  for  the  story 
of  his  life. 

I  will  now  proceed  to  contemplate  this  life.  As  a 
source  of  information  with  regard  to  the  first  Frankfort 
period,  Dr.  Solomon  Hirzel,  in  Leipsic,  has  published,  ex- 
cellently arranged,  the  whole  series  of  Goethe's  own  testi- 
mony. Hirzel  was  in  possession  of  the  fullest  collection 
of  Goethe's  printed  and  written  works.  His  chronologi- 
cal index  of  this  Goethe  library,  which  appeared  in  manu- 
script from  time  to  time,  had  long  been  an  indispensable 
source  of  information.  The  "  Jungen  Goethe  "  consists 


22  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

of  letters  and  works,  chronologically  arranged,  in  three 
volumes.  The  works  are  given  in  their  original  form. 
To-day  they  are  usually  read  in  the  form  which,  at  a 
later  period,  Goethe  himself  gave  them.  The  curious,  . 
faded  manuscripts  and  printed  pages,  which  in  many 
cases  Hirzel's  eyes  alone  had  rested  on,  were  now  made 
accessible  to  everybody. 

Still,  the  principal  source  for  the  clear  understanding 
of  Goethe's  childhood  and  youth  was,  and  remains,  his 
own  narration.  Under  the  title,  "  Wahrheit  und  Dich- 
tung,"  it  is  in  the  possession  of  all  the  world.  We  are 
so  accustomed  to  this  title,  "  Wahrheit  und  Dichtung," 
that  the  form  "  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit,"  which  was 
lately  proved  to  have  been  the  original  one,  will  only 
slowly  be  accepted.  Goethe's  secretary,  Riemer,  made 
the  inversion,  and  we  next  find  it  in  G.  von  Loeper's 
latest  and  best  edition  of  the  work.  Goethe  composed 
this  autobiography  on  a  basis  of  insufficient  material. 
He  was  almost  sixty  years  old  before  he  earnestly  at- 
tempted it.  He  had  been  accustomed  carefully  to  collect 
and  place  in  order  everything  of  importance  which  he 
should  remember ;  but  in  spite  of  this  he  had  to  bewail 
a  great  gap  of  his  own  making.  In  the  year  1797, — 
previous  to  a  second  intended  trip  to  Italy,  which  was 
prevented  by  the  war,  —  he  had  burned  all  the  letters  he 
had  received  up  to  that  time.  To  us  the  loss  does  not 
seem  so  great,  because  Goethe's  own  letters  have  by  de- 
grees come  to  light,  and  are  now  at  our  service  ;  but  he 
could  avail  himself  of  very  few  of  these,  as  it  was  not 
until  later  that  he  adopted  the  habit  of  retaining  copies 
of  his  letters.  What  he  drew  from  sources  at  present 
concealed  will  later  become  known  to  the  public  through 
the  publication  of  the  Goethe  Archives,  to  which  at  pres- 
ent no  one  is  allowed  access.  Goethe's  heirs,  guided 


THE  "DICHTUNG  UND  WAHRHEIT."          23 

by  motives  not  understood,  hold  the  bequest  of  their 
great  ancestor  under  lock  and  key,  thereby  making  it  in 
the  highest  degree  difficult  to  prepare  a  thoroughly  satis- 
factory edition  of  his  works.  Since  these  important 
papers  are  withheld,  and  all  efforts  to  obtain  them  prove 
fruitless,  there  remains  only  the  hope  that  possibly  the 
authorities  may  buy  Goethe's  house  and  its  contents  for 
the  benefit  of  the  nation. 

How  much  help  these  family  papers  afforded  Goethe 
for  his  work  we  know  not.  From  his  autobiography  it 
is  evident  that  many  of  the  occurrences  he  relates  had 
taken  a  mythical  form  in  his  memory.  Still,  we  cannot 
decide  whether  to  assume  a  sort  of  organic  confusion, 
such  as  always  arises  when  memory  unaided  is  called  to 
judge  past  events,  or  whether  to  believe  that  Goethe, 
intending  to  make  of  his  biography  a  work  of  art,  pur- 
posely displaces  dates  and  events ;  enough  that  such 
variation  is  proved.  It  might  therefore  appear  that 
Goethe,  conscious  of  this  state  of  things,  chose  the  title 
of  "  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit "  because  fiction  filled  the 
first  place  in  books.  Nevertheless,  this  was  not  so.  No- 
where can  it  be  proved  that  Goethe  added  anything  to  the 
actual  incidents  of  his  life  ;  nowhere  do  we  perceive  any 
violation  of  the  true  coloring.  Whatever  new  fountains 
of  information  are  open  to  us  confirm  for  the  most  part 
Goethe's  narration.  What  mistakes  or  transformations 
are  brought  to  light  are  trifling  by  the  side  of  the 
striking  truth  with  which  events  and  characters  are  in 
the  main  represented.  We  possess  in  Goethe's  autobiog- 
raphy a  narration  which  can  be  designated  as  a  most 
truthful  one  throughout. 

Certainly,  the  combination  of  the  two  words  dich- 
tung-  and  wahrheit  sounds  like  a  challenge.  This  was 
instantly  perceived  by  Goethe's  friends  and  taken  advan- 


24        LIFE  AND  TIMES  OF  GOETHE. 

tage  of  by  his  enemies,  and  finally  led  him  (although  lie 
usually  took  no  heed  of  such  things)  to  explain  his 
meaning.  He  has  done  this  in  several  places,  so  that 
to-day  no  doubt  exists  as  to  what  he  intended  by  the 
title  of  "  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit."  Goethe  declared  he 
had  chosen  to  relate  only  the  circumstances  of  his  life, 
which,  when  looking  back  upon  them,  seemed  to  him  the 
steps  in  his  development.  Allowing  all  else  to  escape, 
the  part  chosen  by  him  received  a  simpler,  nobler,  more 
artistic  construction,  though  needing  some  connecting 
links  ;  and  so  far  it  became  a  work  of  fiction.  But  at  the 
same  time  the  truth  was  not  sacrificed. 

This  handling  increased  not  only  the  beauty  but  the 
value  of  the  book.  It  is  more  important  for  us  to  see 
how  Goethe's  childhood  and  youth,  as  related  to  his 
whole  life,  mirror  themselves  in  his  soul,  and  where  he 
discovers  the  first  steps  in  his  future  career,  than  to  have 
a  great  mass  of  authentic  detail,  which  by  no  skill  in 
mere  arrangement  could  ever  become  an  organic  whole. 

Goethe,  in  thus  representing  his  life  in  "  Dichtung  und 
Wahrheit,"  gives  an  account  of  the  Frankfort  period 
only.  It  extends  to  his  departure  from  Frankfort  for 
Weimar  in  the  year  1775.  It  seemed  to  him  that  he 
had  done  enough,  perhaps  all  that  was  possible,  in 
showing  how  the  child  developed  into  the  man.  For  the 
representation  of  his  later  life  he  adopted  the  annalistic 
form.  He  then  preserved  according  to  a  definite  method 
complete  records  of  each  year.  A  comparison  of  the  two 
methods  enables  us  to  realize  how  much  we  are  indebted 
to  the  earlier  one. 

"  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit  "  has  given  the  earlier  years 

'  of  Goethe's  life  their  decidedly  greater  importance,  and 

has  placed  by  the  side  of  the  grand,  mature  Goethe  the 

young  Goethe,  as  a  special  creation  in  our  literary  his- 


THE    HOME   AT   FRANKFORT.  25 

tory.  Without  "  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit "  Hirzell's 
ttiree  volumes  would  be  scarcely  comprehensible.  Per- 
haps it  would  have  been  better  had  Hirzell  made  a 
fourth  of  "  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit."  The  letters  alone 
do  not  explain  why  these  early  works  are  presented  again 
in  the  antique  dress  which  Goethe  himself  later  changed 
for  the  form  in  which  he  wished  them  to  be  read. 

Goethe's  Weimar  life  pales  by  the  side  of  the  clear 
sunbeam  which  streams  from  "  Dichtung  und  Wahr- 
heit." Even  "  Die  italianische  Reise,"  in  which  Goethe 
gives  an  account  of  what  were  for  him,  perhaps,  the  most 
important  years  of  his  life,  is  not  to  be  compared  with  it. 
So  far  as  I -am  acquainted  with  literature,  there  is  only 
one  work  which  can  be  said  to  rival  "  Dichtung  und 
Wahrheit," — perhaps  the  very  one  whose  method  Goethe 
followed,  —  "The  Confessions"  of  Jean  Jacques  Rous- 
seau, in  which  he,  too,  narrates  only  the  first  half  of  his 
life,  and  in  which  we  find  the  same  wonderful  blending  of 
the  individual  with  the  universal  which  poets  alone  have 
the  power  to  achieve. 

It  is  well  known  that  Goethe  was  born  in  Frankfort- 
on-the-Main,  on  the  28th  of  August,  1749.  His  father's 
house  still  stands  in  the  Hirschgraben.  It  is  inwardly 
and  outwardly  somewhat  changed,  but  the  company  which 
bought  it  have  restored,  so  far  as  possible,  its  early  ap- 
pearance, and  have  filled  it  with  a  variety  of  relics  con- 
cerning former  changes :  the  account  of  the  rebuilding 
ordered  by  Goethe's  father,  with  the  odd  pedantry  so 
characteristic  of  him,  is  one  of  the  best  known  episodes 
in  "  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit."  Goethe's  mother  sold 
the  house  ;  and  we  cannot  now  say  with  certainty  which 
was  Goethe's  room.  That  it  was  a  Mansard  room  we 
know  from  his  autobiography,  and  from  letters  dated 


2G  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

there.  He  describes  the  view  from  the  window,  reach- 
ing over  houses  and  gardens  far  as  the  horizon,  and 
the  ever-flowing  fountain  below  in  the  court.  We  be- 
lieve that  we  breathe  the  air  which  he  breathed,  and 
watch  the  same  floating  clouds  which  his  eyes  followed. 
Through  his  whole  life  Goethe  loved  to  describe  the  spot 
where  he  was,  —  to  analyze,  as  it  were,  the  atmosphere 
which  surrounded  him.  In  his  works  the  locality  is 
described  with  such  exactness,  and  so  kept  in  view, 
that  maps  might  be  drawn  of  the  paths  through  which 
his  imaginary  beings  wandered.  The  roar  of  the  sea 
across  whose  waves  Iphigenia's  eyes  sought  her  home  no 
one  since  Homer  has  brought  so  distinctly -to  our  cars. 
The  park  in  which  the  drama  of  the  "  Wahlverwandt- 
schaften  "  was  played  is  as  familiar  as  if  we  had  trodden 
every  avenue  in  it.  The  house  in  Frankfort  stands  so 
vividly  before  us  that  we  could  find  our  way  about  it  in 
the  dark.  In  thus  building  up  from  the  firm  earth  the 
story  of  his  childhood,  Goethe  gives  his  narration  that 
high  degree  of  credibility  which  makes  it  so  attractive. 

With  the  same  accuracy  does  he  describe  his  native  city. 
What  would  the  old  Frankfort  be  to-day  without  this 
most  distinguished  of  all  chroniclers  ?  What  "  Dichtung 
und  Wahrheit"  left  untouched  Goethe's  letters  added. 
At  all  hours  of  the  day  and  in  all  seasons  of  the  year  he 
leads  us  through  the  streets  of  the  venerable  city.  On 
New  Year's  Eve  we  listen  with  him  at  the  open  window ; 
and  every  sound  which  breaks  upon  our  ear  in  the  stillness 
of  night  thrills  us.  From  the  Main  bridge  we  watch  the 
dark  waves  as  they  stream  toward  him  in  the  weird 
moonlight.  At  break  of  day  we  hear  with  him  the 
awakening  of  the  city  traffic.  Goethe  is  inexhaustible  in 
terms  and  forms  of  expression  by  which  he  arrests  and 
communicates  the  fleeting  sentiment  or  presentiment  of 
the  moment. 


THE    GERMAN   FREE    CITIES.  27 

Nevertheless,  we  now  look  at  these  Frankfort  things, 
which  Goethe  so  graphically  described,  from  a  greater 
distance,  and  more  as  if  in  a  bird's  perspective.  We  ask 
about  the  position  which  the  old  and  free  Reichsstadt 
occupied  in  Germany  in  the  middle  of  the  last  century. 
Goethe  describes  times  already  too  long  past  for  us. 
Men's  minds  have  no  longer  any  knowledge  of  the  state 
of  things  which,  when  Goethe  wrote,  were  still  fresh 
enough  in  the  memory  of  all. 

Cities  are  passing  historical  phenomena.  They  arise 
and  fade  away.  To-day,  when  all  boundary  lines  grow 
faint,  —  when  in  Germany,  thanks  to  railroads,  every 
city  seems  almost  like  the  suburb  of  some  other  city,  — 
we  can  scarcely  conceive  the  time  when,  surrounded  by 
immovable  walls,  a  number  of  independent  republics, 
sole  centres  of  education,  covered  the  German  soil.  In 
the  thirteenth  century  these  states  within  the  state  — 
the  German  Free  Cities  —  formed  a  political  alliance. 
They  were  fortified ;  each  had  its  own  peculiar  constitu- 
tion ;  and  all  resolved  to  close  their  gates,  even  against 
the  Emperor  himself,  if  he  should  attempt  to  interfere 
with  their  freedom. 

Republics  have  always  been  based  upon  the  sovereignty 
of  a  few  powerful  families,  and  this  was  true  of  the  Ger- 
man Free  Cities.  Their  heroic  time  was  from  the 
thirteenth  to  the  fifteenth  century.  Their  power  was 
destroyed  in  the  age  of  the  Reformation,  when  it  became 
apparent  that  great  ideas  can  only  gain  ground  when 
every  individual,  even  the  most  insignificant,  may  be 
appealed  to.  Events  did  not  go  so  far  at  that  time  as  to 
give  the  power  to  the  masses ;  but  the  supremacy  was 
placed  in  the  hands  of  those  whom  the  masses  outside 
the  cities  willingly  obeyed, — the  princes  of  the  land. 
Moreover,  the  old  and  powerful  families  in  the  cities  were 


28  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

dying  out,  as  is  always  the  case  when  a  certain  number  of 
generations  continue  without  any  influx  of  fresh  blood. 
This  influx  failed.  The  great  mass  of  the  people  no 
longer  pressed  inside  the  cities  to  reinvigorate  their 
blood,  too  fast  becoming  exhausted,  and  it  appeared  more 
lucrative  to  serve  princes  than  to  obey  citizens. 

So  matters  stood  in  the  age  of  the  Reformation.  The 
transition  went  on  slowly  and  imperceptibly,  for  the 
power  of  the  princes  grew  but  gradually;  and  the  strength 
of  the  cities  was  by  no  means  broken  when  the  Thirty 
Years'  War  —  a  frightful  malady,  brought  upon  us  from 
without,  and  artificially  nourished  —  blighted  all  the 
young  shoots  of  our  development. 

The  significance  of  this  war  in  the  history  of  human 
culture  was  never  so  clearly  presented  to  my  mind  as 
when,  in  the  retired  Boboli  Gardens  in  Florence,  I  read 
an  inscription  on  a  monument  erected  in  the  sixteenth 
century.  It  was  dedicated  to  "  The  Public  Felicity " 
which  "  permitted  all  the  arts  of  peace  to  flourish  in 
Italy,  while  abroad  devastating  war  had  trampled  down 
all  the  growths  of  peace  to  their  very  roots."  The  Thirty 
Years'  War  left  among  us  both  physical  and  spiritual 
stagnation,  and  when  peace  smiled  again  on  the  German 
waste  men  found  that  they  had  become  older,  —  but 
nothing  more.  Principalities  and  cities  still  existed,  but 
the  first  were  as  much  exhausted  as  the  latter.  Slowly 
and  gradually  the  power  of  the  land-princes  rose,  and 
that  of  the  cities  fell ;  but,  beyond  that,  everything  stood 
still  in  Germany.  It  seemed  impossible  that  anything 
could  hasten  the  national  development. 

So  we  see  Goethe  born  among  conditions  which  a  draft 
of  air,  such  as  to-day  blows  around  every  corner,  would 
have  destroyed,  root  and  branch.  And  yet  they  con- 
tinued as  undisturbed  as  if  their  pasteboard  foundations 


THE  REPUBLIC  OF  LETTERS.         29 

had  actually  been  hewn  out  of  solid  rock.  It  is  this  mere 
fiction  of  an  individual  political  existence  which  Goethe 
represents  so  vividly  in  his  description  of  Frankfort,  his 
native  city. 

The  Imperial  Cities  were,  in  1750,  still  enthroned,  free, 
proud,  and  unmolested,  with  walls,  towers,  and  gates. 
Their  "  burgers  "  still  moved  majestically,  with  the  pomp 
of  traditional  government-machinery  clothed  with  the  glim- 
mer of  time-honored  magnificence.  A  huge  amount  of 
mutual  homage  in  all  imaginable  forms  was  daily  required 
and  rendered.  It  was  high  treason  to  question  any  of 
these  forms  !  But  it  would  have  been  impossible,  even  in  a 
dream,  to  fancy  these  pompous  old  citizens  really  in  arms 
prepared  to  defend  their  walls,  or  to  come  out  in  battle 
array,  as  the  Niirnbergers  did  under  Pyrkheimer,  to  re- 
inforce the  imperial  troops.  Hard-baked  in  their  own  fat 
like  some  curious  old  cake,  covered  with  sugar  and  dotted 
with  raisins,  these  gentry  believed  themselves  sufficiently 
protected  if  they  could  find  their  way  amid  the  intricate 
maze  of  rights  and  privileges  on  which  their  existence 
was  based,  —  the  magistrates  without  initiative,  the  citi- 
zens without  a  suspicion  that  anything  could  possibly  be 
changed !  The  idea  of  a  political  union  in  Germany,  a 
rising  of  the  whole  nation,  was  inconceivable,  —  no  repre- 
sentation of  interests,  no  rights  of  debate,  no  parties  in 
the  sense  of  to-day,  not  even  desires  in  common  !  Every 
city  for  itself,  every  house  for  itself,  and  each  citizen  for 
himself. 

This  must  be  considered  in  order  to  appreciate  the  in- 
estimable value  of  the  single  independent  element  among 
us  in  those  times ;  namely,  literature.  There  were  no 
political  institutions  in  Germany,  where  the  free,  ener- 
getic character  of  a  man  could  be  developed ;  but  there 
was  among  us  the  Republic  of  Letters ! 


30  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

Scholars  and  poets  alone  had  opportunities  of  touching 
the  mass  of  the  people.  To  them  alone  was  it  permitted 
to  manifest  their  enthusiasm  publicly  and  to  develop 
themselves,  surrounded  by  an  expectant,  sympathetic  cir- 
cle, which  at  that  time  —  not  so  indistinct  and  formless 
as  now,  but  better  disciplined  and  with  purer  personal 
relations  —  assisted  and  sustained  the  men  who  had  once 
gained  its  confidence,  and  who  at  the  same  time  depended 
upon  its  support. 

Goethe's  narrative  of  his  childhood  and  youth  contains 
the  following :  A  boy  is  described,  who  grows  up  on  the 
most  luxurious  soil  of  this  Free-City  life.  His  father  —  a 
rich,  pedantic,  punctilious  man  —  educates  and  trains  his 
son  for  the  agreeable  continuance  of  a  life  like  his  own. 
From  the  moment  the  boy  steps  out  of  his  childhood 
coarse  and  fine  threads  are  laid  around  him  on  all  sides, 
from  which  the  net  is  spun  out  of  which  escape  seems 
year  by  year  less  possible.  But  in  the  boy  the  desire  for 
freedom  becomes  ever  stronger,  as  he  realizes  that  the 
more  desperately  he  exerts  himself  to  escape  the  more 
tightly  his  chains  are  fastened  about  him ;  until  at  the 
last  moment,  when,  as  we  see,  it  seems  impossible  for  him 
to  gain  freedom,  he  wrenches  himself  away,  and,  leaving 
his  native  city  forever,  seeks  and  finds  a  soil  wholly  suited 
to  the  development  of  his  nature.  To  show  that  this  was 
the  purport  of  his  youth  seemed  to  Goethe  of  the  utmost 
importance.  His  later  experiences  have  nothing  in  com- 
mon with  this  first  grand  climax  in  his  life.  This  is  the 
reason  why  "  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit "  breaks  off  at  the 
point  where  Goethe's  Frankfort  history  ends. 

Goethe's  father  was  an  Imperial  Councillor.  He  had 
procured  this  dignity  for  himself,  that  he  might  by  a 
sounding  title  compensate  for  his  lack  of  old  patrician 
blood.  His  family  did  not  belong  to  the  aristocrats.  In 


HIS    EARLY   EDUCATION.  31 

Krieg's  published  account  of  Frankfort  life  in  Goethe's 
youth  new  light  has  lately  been  thrown  on  these  matters. 
Goethe's  mother's  relations  were  judges  and  mayors,  but 
his  father  never  held  any  public  office :  to  the  son  should 
be  given  what  to  the  father  had  been  denied.  All  the 
other  children  had  died  early.  Wolfgang  and  his  sister 
Cornelia  alone  remained  to  be  submitted  to  the  father's 
experiments  in  education,  and  the  father  lived  henceforth 
for  this  single  purpose.  They  grew  up  under  a  guardian- 
ship such  as  is  rarely  the  lot  of  the  children  of  this  gen- 
eration. Young  Goethe  was  educated  with  an  intensity 
which  would  frighten  our  children,  and  that  not  with  se- 
verity, but  through  his  father's  unintermitting  watchful- 
ness. No  city  authorities  at  that  time  presumed  to  decide 
how  children  should  be  treated  regarding  most  important 
details,  as  is  the  case  at  present,  when  by  a  decree  of  the 
State  a  certain  quantity  of  fresh  air  is  pumped  into  every 
child's  room.  Goethe  describes  amid  what  curiously  con- 
flicting influences  his  mind  was  early  developed.  In  the 
warm  lap  of  his  family  he  felt  no  rough  breath  of  actual 
life ;  no  blasts  like  those  among  which  Schiller  worked 
his  way  to  eminence ;  no  trace  of  the  indigence  of  Les- 
sing,  or  the  wretched  poverty  of  Winckelmann,  who,  in 
all  weathers,  were  exposed  under  an  open  sky,  and  only 
here  and  there  gladdened  by  a  mild  sunbeam.  In  Goethe's 
case  the  gifts  of  this  world  were  in  excess ;  but  united 
with  this  abundance  was  an  entire  deprivation  of  personal 
freedom,  against  which  no  resistance  seemed  possible,  be- 
cause it  enveloped  him  like  a  fine  ether.  Goethe  was 
better  prepared  for  intercourse  with  women  than  men, 
owing  to  the  fact  that  lie  had  been  educated  for  the  most 
part  with  his  sister.  In  the  midst  of  the  all-powerful  city 
gossip,  which  at  that  time  supplied  the  place  of  news- 
papers and  public  life,  he  soon  learned  to  move  as  a  skilled 


32  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

diplomat  between  the  families  with  whom  relationship 
brought  him  in  contact.  He  knows  how  to  win  his  way 
to  the  confidence  of  the  many  originals  who  had  spun 
themselves  into  all  sorts  of  odd  webs  in  out-of-the-way 
places,  where  they  allowed  no  strange  hands  to  meddle 
with  them.  He  ransacks  the  corners  of  the  city  and 
understands  more  and  more  of  its  organism,  of  which  he 
considers  himself  a  part.  What  more  natural  than  that 
out  of  this  knowledge  should  arise  the  conviction  that 
sooner  or  later  it  would  be  his  fate  to  be  an  active  par- 
ticipator in  all  these  whimsical  doings  ?  What  other 
plans  could  Providence  have  for  him  ?  Where  but  in 
Frankfort  could  a  future  be  prepared  for  him  ?  Germany 
had  then  no  central  point  attracting  young  talent  with 
mysterious  and  irresistible  force.  We  possessed  no  Paris, 
which  received  Corneille,  Racine,  and  Moliere  (indiffer- 
ent whence  they  came),  when  their  hour  struck;  no  Lon- 
don, to  which  Shakspeare  fled  from  Stratford;  no  Berlin, 
now  drawing  to  itself  all  rising  talent.  What  city  could 
have  enticed  from  Frankfort  the  son  of  a  rich  burger  ? 
Vienna  was  far  away,  —  a  Catholic,  half  Italian,  half 
Spanish  residence.  Berlin  was  poor,  and  seemed  at  that 
time  as  far  removed  from  the  rich  centre  of  Germany  as 
St.  Petersburg  is  to-day. 

And  so  we  see  Goethe  depart  at  sixteen  years  of  age  to 
study  law  at  Leipsic,  with  his  plan  of  life  already  mapped 
out.  He  will  take  his  degree,  return  home,  enter  on  his 
practice  as  a  lawyer,  marry  a  rich  patrician's  daughter, 
take  possession  of  his  father's  house,  receive  by  degrees 
the  city  honors,  and  possibly  once  before  he  dies  fill  the 
position  of  mayor. 

We  read  in  "  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit,"  and  find  it  con- 
firmed in  the  meagrely-preserved  correspondence  of  these 
years,  that  he  did  little  more  as  a  Leipsic  student  than 


HE    STUDIES    AT    LEIPSIC.  33 

to  continue  the  narrow  life  begun  in  Frankfort.  Cer- 
v  tainly  the  Elbe  and  the  Pleisse  flowed  through  a  land  dif- 
ferent from  the  picturesque  country  watered  by  the  Main 
and  the  Rhine.  Everything  was  new  in  Leipsic,  and  yet 
wholly  the  same.  Here,  also,  stagnation  reigned,  walled 
in  and  protected  by  a  reverence  for  old  customs.  It  is 
true  that  the  general  intellectual  commotion,  which,  ris- 
ing in  France,  thrilled  all  Europe,  vibrated  almost  imper- 
ceptibly in  Leipsic.  Lessing  and  Herder  were  already  at 
work,  and  had  made  a  sensation  in  Germany.  But  Gel- 
lert  and  Gottsched  still  remained  the  leading  men  in 
Leipsic,  the  two  oracles  from  whom  the  student  of  litera- 
ture took  his  cue.  Gottsched,  the  pedantic  empty-headed 
representative  of  the  old  French  culture,  so  deliciously 
sketched  by  Goethe  in  his  impertinent  Grandezza ;  Gel- 
lert,  old  and  inflexible,  of  somewhat  finer  mental  fibre,  — 
both  kept  pace  with  the  progress  of  things,  but  even  while 
imitating  did  not  understand.  Gellert  wrought  his  old- 
fashioned  plots  into  the  new  form  of  sentimental  comedy, 
and  composed  a  panegyric  on  it.  He  even  made  of  his 
own  novel,  "  Die  schwedische  Grafin,"  a  perfect  extrav- 
aganza, which  rivals  the  latest  sensation  novels.  And 
yet  he  is  in  every  respect  antiquated.  I  had  for  Gellert 
a  special  personal  reverence  :  he  was  the  favorite  writer 
of  my  dearly-loved  mother,  who  repeatedly  and  fervently 
commended  his  songs  to  me.  From  his  works,  which  I 
had  early  received  as  a  gift,  I  made  excerpts  for  the 
"Worter  Buch,"  and  thereby  obtained  a  more  exact 
knowledge  of  them  than  I  should  otherwise  have  had. 
But  I  cannot  help  finding  in  Gellert's  character  a  mixture 
of  benevolence  and  humanity  with  servility  and  dry  ness, 
and  an  absence  of  breadth  and  freedom  of  thought  which 
is  insufferable.  Goethe  revered  Gellert,  but  never  ap- 
proached him.  He  was  vexed  that  Gellert  ignored  the 

3 


34  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

new  writers,  whom  the  young  generation  respected,  and, 
in  his  lectures  on  literature,  passed  them  over  as  if  they 
did  not  exist.  Goethe  was  indebted  to  him  for  calling 
his  attention  to  his  handwriting,  the  improvement  of 
which  Gellert  demanded  of  all  his  scholars,  intimating 
that  it  had  its  moral  value. 

Goethe  was  accessible  to  such  admonitions.  In  spite 
of  all  his  enjoyments,  a  conscientious  regulation  of  his 
inner  life  was  ever  conspicuous  in  his  thoughts,  and 
showed  itself  in  his  earliest  years  in  the  tendency  toward 
Freemasonry  and  asceticism.  His  first  letter,  in  the  year 
1764,  contains  a  request  to  be  admitted  to  one  of  the 
fraternities  which  at  that  time  rose  among  us,  and  whose 
aim  was  "  Virtue."  This  word,  which  to-day  (although  it 
has  lost  nothing  of  its  real  nobility)  has  become  less  used 
on  account  of  a  certain  vagueness  bordering  on  inanity, 
was  at  that  time  full  of  pregnant  meaning,  indicating,  in 
an  earnest,  aspiring,  active  sense,  the  highest  spiritual 
good  within  the  reach  of  man. 

We  see  Goethe  in  Leipsic  continuing  to  interest  him- 
self in  all  the  little  city  excitements.  There  prevailed 
here,  heightened  by  reflection  from  the  court  of  Dresden, 
but  at  the  same  time  as  a  genuine  native  specialty, 
Leipsic  u  gallantry."  The  students  could  not  go  about 
rough-shod,  like  the  bullies  in  Jena  and  Halle.  Goethe 
adapted  himself  easily  to  this  more  refined  life,  seeking  to 
visit  only  the  families  with  whom  his  intercourse  could 
be  as  free  as  it  was  delightful.  He  has  his  acquaintances 
among  women  and  his  love  affairs ;  renders  his  homage 
to  the  ruling  taste  in  poetical  effusions ;  and  finally  re- 
turns home  little  changed  from  what  he  was  when  he 
left. 

Shakspeare's  dramas  had  already  been  much  admired 
by  Goethe ;  but  they  had  not,  as  yet,  influenced  his  writ- 


HIS    EARLIEST   LYEICAL    PRODUCTIONS.  35 

ings.  He  speaks  of  Wieland  and  Shakspeare  as  his  in- 
structors in  poetry  ;  but,  in  truth,  in  his  poetry  written 
at  that  time  lie  proves  himself  to  be  a  genuine  scholar  of 
Gottsched  and  Gellert.  He  begins  a  translation  of  Cor- 
neille's  "  Menteur."  He  writes  "  Die  Mitschuldigen  "  — 
whose  earlier,  if  not  the  earliest,  printed  form  Herzel  first 
made  known  —  in  Alexandrines.  If  Goethe  were  not  the 
author  of  this  work,  it  would  to-day  be  difficult  for  any  one 
to  read  it  through.  Curiously  enough,  he  had  always  a  cer- 
tain tenderness  for  it,  and  enjoyed  reading  it  aloud. 

The  beginning  of  his  lyrical  productions,  on  the  other 
hand,  was  a  series  of  little  songs,  adapted  to  musical 
compositions,  which  then  appeared  in  print,  but  it  would 
be  no  marvel  if  we  should  find  a  French  original  for 
each  of  them.  In  their  time  they  were  little  noticed, 
and  accepted  only  with  a  half-patronizing  air  by  Goethe's 
best  friends.  Such  of  them  as  were  afterward  reprinted 
underwent  great  alterations.  In  these  little  songs,  which 
contain  mere  gallantries,  Goethe  reveals  for  the  first 
time  his  enchanting  talent  for  expressing  a  feeling  by  a 
few  simple  words  or  combinations,  and,  while  exhausting 
it,  showing  it  to  be  inexhaustible.  In  Goethe's  letters, 
written  at  this  time,  the  dependence  on  French  taste  for 
forms  of  expression  is  very  striking.  Some  are  outright 
French  compositions,  interspersed  with  verses  of  his  own 
in  French  ;  and  all  betraying,  in  the  arrangement  as  well 
as  in  the  ideas,  the  playful  French  style  which  was  so  des- 
potic at  that  time.  Even  Voltaire  and  Frederick,  when 
dealing  with  the  most  serious  things,  could  not  overcome 
this  manner.  Goethe  never  wrote  anything  worthy  of 
note  in  this  style.  In  this  correspondence,  the  radiant 
Leipsic  maidens,  whom  Goethe  describes  so  charmingly 
in  "  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit,"  assume  a  character  of 
mediocrity,  insipidity,  and  littleness,  which  afterward 


36  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

Goethe  himself  was  obliged  to  see.  After  seven  years, 
when  he  returned  to  Leipsic,  he  looked  with  eyes  long 
since  disenchanted  on  the  whole  manner  of  life  there. 

Otto  Jahn  and  Freiher  von  Wiedermann  have  given 
us  the  history  of  Goethe's  life  in  Leipsic.  Jahn,  for  the 
first  time,  made  Hirzel's  collection  useful,  and  justified  a 
very  proper  local  patriotism.  The  book,  adorned  with 
pleasing  lithographs,  excited  at  its  appearance  the  live- 
liest interest,  and  stimulated  an  admiration  for  Goetlie 
as  an  author  in  the  period  previous  to  the  Weimar  days, 
which  later,  when  degenerated,  becomes  a  kind  of  cul- 
tus,  —  an  enthusiasm  comparable  to  the  apotheosis  of 
the  early  days  of  Raphael  in  Perugia  and  Florence.  But 
let  us  remember  that  if  there  had  been  no  Weimar  and 
Rome  for  Goethe  and  Raphael,  very  little  would  now  be 
said  of  their  youthful  works  or  of  the  men  themselves. 
He  who  is  too  eager  to  prophesy  the  grand  meaning  of 
the  later  masterly  productions  of  a  genius  from  his  early 
attempts  takes  a  portion  of  the  glory  from  the  mature 
powers  of  the  man,  which  alone  are  able  to  create  such 
perfection.  Goethe's  early  works  can  only  be  rightly 
estimated  in  connection  with  all  he  accomplished  ;  and 
they  fall  into  the  shade  by  the  side  of  the  productions 
of  his  later  years. 

Goethe  made  no  acquaintances  in  Leipsic  who  had 
decided  influence  on  his  life.  He  spent  three  years  there, 
felt  himself  quite  at  home,  and  intended  to  return  thither 
after  passing  for  the  first  time  his  autumn  vacation  in 
Frankfort.  This  was  in  1768.  He  was  hurried  home, 
as  it  seems,  because  his  irregular  life  had  brought  on  a 
hemorrhage,  the  effects  of  which  he  could  not  recover 
from  in  Leipsic.  Ill,  and  in  a  sad  frame  of  mind,  he 
reached  his  father  once  more.  He  had  not  studied  even 
law  earnestly,  and  must  rest  for  months  before  he  would 


HE   MEETS    HERDER   AT    STRASBURG.  37 

be  well  enough  to  resume  his  studies,  as  was  now  found 
advisable  in  Strasburg.  A  journey  to  Paris  and  into 
Italy,  where  his  father  had  been,  was  proposed  at  the 
end  of  his  education. 

On  the  19th  of  October,  1765,  Goethe  matriculated  in 
Leipsic ;  on  the  28th  of  August,  1768,  he  leaves  for 
home  ;  and  on  the  2d  of  April,  1770,  he  goes  to  Stras- 
burg. He  was  already  over  twenty  years  of  age. 

Now  begins  the  time  when  every  word  which  t  drops 
from  Goethe's  pen  is  memorable,  as  of  historical  impor- 
tance. Now,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  he  meets  a 
superior  nature,  a  man  whom  he  felt  to  be  greater  than 
himself. 

We  must  now  speak  directly  of  the  man  who,  of  all  his 
contemporaries,  had  the  most  enduring  influence  upon 
Goethe.  Goethe  and  Herder  met  in  Strasburg. 


38  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 


LECTURE  III. 

LIFE  JN   STRASBURG.  —  HERDER.  —  NEW  IDEAS  OF  THE  NINE- 
TEENTH  CENTURY. 

/^OETHE'S  Strasburg  experiences,  as  well  as  those  in 
^-^  Leipsic,  have  been  enlarged  upon  by  writers  with  a 
sort  of  local  patriotism.  He  himself  describes  this  short 
period  with  loving  minuteness. 

Again  he  enters  heart  and  soul  into  the  fulness  of 
life.  The  inn,  "  Zum  Geist,"  at  which  Goethe  alighted, 
no  longer  exists.  But  we  follow  him  to-day  on  his  first 
walk  from  there  to  the  Cathedral,  passing  the  very  same 
old  houses  which  he  passed.  Many  thousands  since  then 
have  read  from  the  platform  of  the  tower  Goethe's  name 
chiselled  high  in  the  stone,  and  thought  of  him  as  they 
gazed  around  on  the  glorious  extent  of  country,  and  then 
looked  down  upon  the  houses  of  the  crooked  city  which 
at  that  time  was  so  perfectly  German  that  he  scarcely 
felt  himself  outside  his  native  land.  - 

It  was  so  essential  for  Goethe  to  see  men,  and  to  hear 
the  world  in  a  certain  confusion  whirling  about  him, 
that  he  was  quickly  drawn  into  a  varied  intercourse. 
"  My  life,"  as  he  expresses  it  in  one  of  his  letters,  "  is 
like  a  drive  in  a  sleigh,  speeding  along  with  tinkling  of 
bells,  but  with  as  little  to  satisfy  the  heart  as  there  is 
much  to  fill  eye  and  ear."  Five  years  later,  when  he 
came  to  Weimar,  he  made  use  of  the  same  figure ;  and  at 


HIS    LIFE   AT    STRASBURG.  39 

no  time,  in  the  course  of  his  long  life,  did  Goethe  fail  to 
have  his  sleigh-ride.  He  was  always  moving  forward 
with  sound  of  cymbals  and  waving  of  banners,  with  a 
retinue  constantly  about  him  whom  he  ruled,  and  by 
whom  he  in  turn  allowed  himself  to  be  ruled.  In  this 
respect  Goethe  was  educated  like  the  child  of  a  -prince, 
about  whom,  from  his  first  entrance  into  the  world, 
crowds  of  men  are  busy,  and  by  whom  he  is  surrounded 
to  the  very  end  of  his  life. 

This  Strasburg  life,  considered  in  the  light  of  a  sleigh- 
ride,  Goethe  has  so  beautifully  and  faithfully  depicted 
that  his  representation  of  the  town,  like  that  of  Frank- 
fort and  Leipsic,  has  the  value  of  a  chronicle.  To-day  we 
observe  with  some  misgivings  how  the  educated  classes, 
from  having  become  almost  French,  begin  to  return  to 
German  ways  ;  at  that  time,  however,  the  transition  from 
genuine  German  to  French  life  was  just  beginning,  and 
it  was  hastened  on  by  the  first  Revolution.  In  the  old 
French  kingdom  these  Rhine  provinces  were  quite  distinct 
from  the  others.  It  would  never  have  occurred  to  any 
one  at  that  time  to  claim  Alsace  as  French  soil :  the 
Alsace  soldiers  were  called  "les  troupes  allemandes,  de 
sa  Majeste*,"  and  the  Alsace  people  "les  sujets  allemands 
du  Roi  de  France."  Goethe  had  wholly  the  feeling  that 
he  was  continuing  his  studies  at  a  German  University, 
and  even  somewhat  later  no  soul  in  Frankfort  would 
have  hesitated  to  recognize  the  claims  of  a  "  Strasburg 
Doctor." 

Goethe  does  justice  to  the  French  as  well  as  to  the 
German  element.  He  describes  most  charmingly  the 
family  of  his  French  dancing-master,  and  not  less  pleas- 
ingly the  costume  of  the  German  burger  maidens, — 
the  neat,  closely-fitting  bodice,  and  the  needle  in  the  hair. 
He  paints  the  festal  procession  of  Marie  Antoinette,  the 


40  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

blooming  young  wife  of  the  Dauphin.  He  transports  us 
into  the  very  midst  of  the  curious  university  life,  the  last 
remnants  of  which  have  been  again  incorporated  with 
the  newly  founded  university.  There  is  no  corner  of  the 
city  which  he  does  not  creep  into  and  describe ;  and  he 
makes  us  as  familiar  with  the  state  of  things  at  that 
time  as  if  we  had  ourselves  been  present  and  breathed 
the  air  of  Strasburg  in  1770. 

He  describes  the  dinner-company  of  which  he  was  a 
member.  Two  old  maiden  ladies,  by  the  name  of  Lauth, 
cooked  for  a  number  of  people  of  various  ranks  and  ages. 
At  the  head  of  the  table  sat  Dr.  Salzmann,  a  sort  of  Gel- 
lert  in  Strasburg  ;  an  excellent,  irreproachable  old  gentle- 
man, born  in  1722,  well-known  in  the  city,  and  by  reason 
of  his  good  citizenship  a  man  who  had  won  universal 
confidence,  and,  although  without  any  special  literary 
merit,  not  to  be  banished  from  literary  history.  His  cor- 
respondence with  Goethe,  preserved  in  the  Strasburg 
library,  was  destroyed  in  the  last  bombardment  of  the 
city.  If  Salzmann  was  the  most  respectable  of  the  com- 
pany, Lenz  was  the  most  brilliant.  He,  however,  joined 
the  circle  later  and  as  tutor  to  two  young  noble  Liefland- 
ers.  Lenz  is,  of  all  the  friends  of  Goethe,  the  one  whom 
he  most  freely  recognized  as  a  poet  and  his  equal,  and 
who  afterward  was  his  greatest  source  of  trouble.  But 
the  most  upright  and  honorable  of  them  all  was  Lerse, 
whom  Goethe  immortalized  in  "  Gotz,"  although  in  the 
first  form  of  the  work  the  tall  blue-eyed  theologian  is 
converted  into  a  little  black-eyed  groom.  It  is  possible 
that  Lerse  himself  demanded  better  treatment,  for,  though 
the  black  eyes  remain,  the  "  little  "  man  is  changed  into 
a  "  stately  "  one  in  the  rewriting  of  the  drama. 

Lerse  did  not  live  to  be  old,  but  died  a  teacher  in  the 
military  school  at  Colmar,  in  1800.  At  the  same  table 


WAGNER   AND   JUNG   STILLING.  41 

sat  Leopold  "Wagner,  the  first  person  who  in  Goethe's  opin- 
ion was  guilty  of  a  literary  theft  from  him,  using  in  his 
play,  "Die  Kindermorderin,"  the  idea  of  "Faust,"  —  a 
drama,  whose  passionate,  glaringly-portrayed  scenes  bear 
so  little  resemblance  to  "  Faust  "  that,  without  Goethe's 
express  declaration  of  plagiarism,  we  should  scarcely 
have  suspected  it.  It  has  been  believed  that  Goethe 
wished  to  revenge  himself  on  Wagner  by  giving  to  Faust's 
Famulus,  who  is  the  type  of  the  narrow,  pedantic  book- 
worm, the  name  of  Wagner ;  and  in  all  the  old  puppet- 
shows  we  find  that  Faust's  associate  is  called  Wagner. 
Nor  was  this  the  only  time  that  Leopold  Wagner  came 
into  literary  collision  with  Goethe.  He  is  the  only  per- 
son who,  later  in  life,  forced  Goethe  to  give  a  public 
explanation  concerning  some  literary  matters. 

The  most  prominent  man  at  ,the  table  was  Jung,  better 
known  by  his  nom  de  plume  of  "Jung  Stilling."  His 
autobiography  will  always  be  one  of  the  books  no  one 
can  repent  having  read.  Jung  Stilling,  born  in  1740, 
raised  himself  from  a  peasant  boy  to  a  journeyman  tailor, 
a  school-master,  and  lastly  to  the  position  of  professor 
and  renowned  oculist.  Jung  lived  wholly  in  his  idea. 
He  was  one  of  the  leading  Pietists  of  the  last  century,  a 
widely  disseminated  religious  sect,  whose  members  be- 
lieved themselves  to  stand  in  direct  intercourse  with  the 
ruling  powers  of  Nature. 

Goethe  had  from  his  childhood  a  similar  tendency,  and 
was  only  radically  cured  of  it  by  his  experiences  with 
Lavater.  But  it  was  only  the  person  from  whom  he 
then  turned  aside,  not  the  thing  itself.  Fraulein  von 
Klettenberg,  who  had  so  great  an  influence  on  his  early 
development  and  whose  memory  he  held  dear  all  his  life, 
was  the  purest  and  noblest  representative  of  this  form  of 
Christianity,  which,  by  the  effect  of  the  French  Bevolu- 


42  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

tion,  was  so  wholly  uprooted  among  us  that  the  remnant 
which  still  exists  gives  no  idea  of  its  earlier  significance. 
The  "  communications  "  of  the  Spiritualists  of  England 
and  America  to-day  may  be  compared  with  it,  bearing  in 
mind  the  fact  that,  instead  of  the  prosaic  coarseness  with 
which  these  matters  are  now  handled,  they  were  then 
treated  with  the  delicacy  which  was  a  characteristic  of 
European  life  before  the  French  Revolution. 

Jung  Stilling's  biography  contains  one  of  the  earliest 
remarks  of  a  contemporary  about  young  Goethe.  He 
describes  the  first  meeting  with  him  at  13  Krammergasse, 
where  the  gentlewomen  Lauth  resided.  He  had  gone 
there  with  a  friend,  and,  being  the  first  that  day  at  ta- 
ble, watched  the  company  assemble  for  dinner.  "  One, 
especially,  with  large  clear  eyes,  splendid  brow,  fine  figure, 
came  into  the  room,  full  of  animation."  He  impressed 
them  instantly.  "  He  must  be  an  extraordinary  man," 
remarked  Jung's  companion  softly  to  him.  Jung  as- 
sented, but  feared  "  they  might  be  somewhat  annoyed 
by  him,  —  he  seemed  such  a  wild,  rolicking  fellow;"  to 
which  the  other  added,  "  Here  it  is  best  to  withhold  one's 
opinion  for  a  fortnight."  No  notice,  however,  was  taken 
of  Jung  and  his  friend,  except  that  Goethe  "  sometimes 
rolled  his  eyes  toward  them."  But  soon  an  opportu- 
nity occurred  for  him  to  do  more.  An  apothecary  from 
Vienna,  who  was  of  the  dinner-company,  gave  this  op- 
portunity. Jung  wore  an  old  round  wig,  which,  for 
economy,  he  insisted  on  retaining  to  its  last  hair ;  and 
the  Vienna  man,  with  a  glance  at  this  bit  of  antiquity, 
put  the  question  :  "  Whether  they  thought  Adam  had 
worn  a  round  wig  in  Paradise  ?  "  Goethe  now  interfered 
in  a  way  which  made  Jung  his  friend  for  life.  Goethe 
edited  Jung's  autobiography. 

Dr.  Salzmann  was  the  founder  of  the  German  Associa- 


THE  MEETING  WITH  HERDER.        43 

tion,  to  which  Goethe  was  admitted.  Goethe  had  gone 
to  Strasburg  with  the  idea  of  becoming  a  thorough 
French  scholar,  and  of  going  on  to  Paris  later  to  receive 
the  final  polish.  He  describes  how  these  plans  were 
counteracted.  It  came  over  him  and  his  companions 
like  an  unexpected  discovery,  that  French  literature  was 
insipid.  The  young  people  felt  that  it  was  old  and  ex- 
hausted, though  they  were  not  prejudiced  against  it  by 
any  of  the  political  ideas  of  to-day.  They  did  not  them- 
selves know  under  what  influence  they  stood.  Rousseau's 
renowned  "  Contrat  Social,"  which  at  that  time  agitated 
the  world,  was  but  indifferent  reading  to  them,  and  gave 
them  no  new  ideas.  On  the  other  hand,  Shakspeare  was 
revered.  In  power  and  originality  he  appeared  to  surpass 
everything  else  in  the  whole  sphere  of  literature. 

Such  was  the  beginning  of  Goethe's  life  at  Strasburg. 
From  all  sides  the  advantages  poured  in  upon  him  which 
ordinary  life  brings  with  it  to  those  who  have  wealth 
and  introductions  to  the  most  desirable  people,  and  are 
also  richly  endowed  by  Nature.  But  how  much  must 
be  added  to  such  abundance  by  special  accident,  if  all 
these  favored  conditions  are  really  to  be  made  service- 
able, is  proved  also  in  his  case.  The  man  had  yet  to 
come  who  was  to  teach  Goethe  to  recognize  the  world  as 
a  living  whole ;  who  would  show  him  the  way  whither 
this  whole  is  moving,  and  how  the  individual  must  exert 
himself  in  order  to  take  part  in  the  great  work  whose 
result  we  call  the  progress  of  humanity.  To  render 
Goethe  this  service  was  the  mission  of  Herder,  who 
appeared  in  Strasburg  in  the  autumn  of  1771. 

We  are  accustomed  now-a-days  to  consider  Herder 
only  as  among  those  grouped  around  the  pedestal  on 
which  Goethe  stands  in  solitary  grandeur ;  but  when 
Herder  and  Goethe  first  met  in  Strasburg,  it  soon  became 


44  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

Goethe's  highest  wish  merely  to  revolve  around  Herder 
as  his  planet.  What  was  wanting  in  Herder's  career  has 
already  been  mentioned :  the  latter  half  of  his  life  did 
not  yield  him  the  joyous,  prolific  harvest  which  the  great 
result  of  his  early  days  promised.  And  yet  in  his  youth 
he  had  been  marvellously  fitted  out  for  this  early  career. 
Those  privations  were  his  lot  which  to  conquer  is  an 
indispensable  part  of  the  education  of  energetic  natures, 
—  loneliness  and  solitude,  which  develop  all  the  powers 
of  resistance  in  man,  and  without  which  it  is  almost  im- 
possible to  attain  reliance  on  oneself,  or  that  stoical 
bravery,  that  indifference  to  the  caprices  of  outward  life, 
which  passionate  natures  need  in  order  to  pursue  stead- 
fastly their  own  way.  As  the  best  of  all  the  gifts  of  fate, 
a  friend  was  early  given  to  Herder ;  and  this  friend's 
doctrines  offered  worthy  problems  to  test  his  ability,  at  a 
time  when  his  thoughts  would  not  otherwise  have  been 
called  to  them. 

Herder  was  born  in  Mohrungen,  in  1744,  into  a  family 
not  absolutely  poor,  but  in  straitened  circumstances. 
At  twenty  years  of  age,  when  Goethe  still  sat  aimless 
and  unprepared  for  the  duties  of  life  in  his  father's 
house,  Herder,  having  long  passed  his  student  years,  had 
received  the  position  of  preacher  at  Riga  on  the  ground  of 
his  "Fragments  on  German  Literature,"  which  had  made 
him  famous.  During  his  years  of  study,  1762  to  1764, 
he  had  become  acquainted  in  Kb'nigsberg  with  the  man 
who  first  directed  his  thoughts  to  the  highest  aims,  — 
Hamann.  It  is  difficult  to  speak  of  Hamann.  He 
stands  too  much  outside  of  the  great  lines  on  which 
the  men  of  the  past  are  drawn  up  that  we  may  review 
them.  Hamann  must  be  studied  ;  the  casual  observer 
finds  in  him  little  of  general  interest  or  significance.  He 
has  been  called  the  "  Magus  of  the  North."  Goethe  said 


HERDER   AXD    LESSING    COMPARED.  45 

that  his  writings  would  be  read  hereafter  like  Sibylline 
books.  Hamarm  sought  to  embody  his  thoughts,  as  it 
were,  in  philosophic  and  magic  formulas.  A  magic  for- 
mula is  one  which  produces  a  sudden  effect  with  words 
seemingly  incomprehensible,  or  even  inconsistent.  Ha- 
mann  has  written  pages  which  instantly  arrest  attention, 
fill  us  with  expectation,  and  hold  us  captive,  but  whose 
meaning  only  dawns  upon  us  gradually  and  after  re- 
peated readings.  Their  deep  contents  disclose  them- 
selves as  if  a  real  illumination  irradiated  them.  He 
who  finally  understands  Hamann  ranks  him  among  the 
heroes  of  literature,  and  we  constantly  meet  with  emi- 
nent scholars  who  devote  their  entire  faculties  to  the 
study  of  his  writings.  The  story  of  his  outer  life  is 
scarcely  credible.  For  the  sake  of  his  daily  bread  he 
held  a  subordinate  office,  lived  in  continual  embarrass- 
ment, and  showed  in  all  his  dealings  a  mixture  of  obsti- 
nacy and  docility  which  is  rarely  to  be  seen.  He  goes  to 
the  bottom  of  everything. 

To  a  young  and  fiery  mind  like  Herder's  nothing  could 
be  more  beneficial  than  intimate  communion  with  such  a 
spirit  during  the  years  when  he  was  forming  his  opinions. 
The  great  critic  in  Germany  at  this  time  was  Lessing. 
Herder's  criticisms  struck  a  new  tone.  Lessing  knew 
only  one  system  of  tactics,  which  was  with  fixed  bayonet 
to  run  his  rival  through  the  body.  He  made  no  prisoners. 
When  the  work  was  over,  there  was  nothing  left  of  his 
antagonist.  Herder,  on  the  contrary,  never  attacks  ;  he 
seeks  from  all  sides  to  influence  his  antagonist  and  to 
induce  him  to  retreat.  He  is  inexhaustible  in  resources. 
He  appears  at  great  disadvantage  to-day  in  comparison 
with  Lessing,  whose  sharp,  concise  use  of  words,  pressing 
directly  to  their  aim,  loses  nothing  of  its  original  perspi- 
cuity ;  while  Herder's  florid  style,  his  involved  periods, 


46        LIFE  AND  TIMES  OF  GOETHE. 

and  his  odd  attempts  to  create  a  language  of  his  own,  in 
which  new  and  curious  words  and  combinations  of  words 
occur,  make  his  style  sound  antiquated  and  foreign. 
Herder  was  a  poet  and  a  theologian  :  he  would  convince 
and  rule,  but  hurt  no  one.  In  the  depths  of  his  soul  lay 
a  quiet  mirror,  in  which  the  history  of  humanity  was 
pictured  as  a  work  of  art.  The  beauty  and  the  power  of 
his  language  shows  itself  most  purely  when,  in  hours  of 
rapturous  contemplation,  he  forces  into  his  service  the 
truest  and  most  pertinent  words  ;  but  it  becomes  dim  and 
confused  when  he  engages  in  controversy,  which,  alas  ! 
in  his  later  days  he  was  too  often  tempted  to  do. 

Herder  had,  in  1769,  published  a  new  work,  which 
added  to  his  renown,  called  "  Die  kritischen  Walder,"  — 
new  fragments  of  a  grand  creed,  which  comprehended 
the  whole  world.  In  a  somewhat  romantic  manner  he 
was  then  driven  to  Strasburg.  He  had  given  up  his 
position  of  pastor,  and  gone  by  ship  from  Riga  to  France. 
Torn  from  his  former  sphere,  on  a  voyage  of  discovery 
seeking  a  new  existence,  his  thoughts  given  to  the  con- 
templation of  the  infinite,  all-surrounding  sea,  he  wrote 
down  all  that  moved  him,  trying  to  make  clear  the  whole 
horizon  of  his  knowledge,  experiences,  and  expectations. 
These  pages  were  published  long  after  his  death.  They 
give  the  best  idea  of  his  grand  theory  of  life.  They  dis- 
close an  acute  and  comprehensive  mind  which  includes  all 
phenomena  in  its  system,  and  a  power  in  the  use  of  lan- 
guage which  fills  us  with  astonishment  when  we  think 
how  little  our  mother-tongue  was  at  that  time  fitted  to 
express  such  speculation.  We  must  bear  this  in  mind  in 
order  to  understand  the  mass  of  French  words  which  fill 
the  writings  of  Lessing,  as  well  as  of  Herder ;  and  which 
are  also  to  be  found  in  great  numbers  in  the  writings  of 
Schiller  and  Goethe. 


RESULTS  OF  THE  THIKTY  YEARS'  WAR.    47 

From  Paris  Herder  went  to  Eutin,  where  he  was  court 
preacher.  He  left  there  to  travel  with  a  young  Holstein 
prince.  Herder  had  an  eye  disease,  necessitating  a  te- 
dious and  painful  operation,  and  chaining  him  to  Stras- 
burg, — "a  most  wretched,  chaotic,  disagreeable  place," 
as  he  wrote  Merck.  Under  these  circumstances,  needing 
help  and  accustomed  to  command,  Goethe's  willingness 
to  serve  came  very  opportunely.  They  became  acquainted 
by  accident,  and  an  intimacy  sprang  up.  The  enthu- 
siasm at  first  was  all  on  Goethe's  side  :  he  perceived 
clearly  what  was  to  be  won,  and  would  not  allow  Herder 
to  escape  him.  When  Goethe  had  become  older  by  the 
few  years  necessary  to  cancel  the  disparity  which  at 
their  time  of  life  made  the  difference  between  the  men 
so  striking,  there  grew  up  the  real  attachment  which 
we  might  say  death  alone  could  have  severed,  if  the  out- 
ward intercourse  of  the  two  men  had  not  (apparently 
through  Herder's  fault)  in  later  years  come  to  an  end. 
Inwardly  they  were  never  estranged. 

We  shall  see  that  Herder  at  this  time  gave  to  Goethe 
what  no  other  person  in  Germany  could  have  given  him. 
It  is  necessary  here  again  to  begin  with  some  general 
observations. 

In  speaking  of  the  results  of  the  Thirty  Years'  War, 
we  have  hitherto  considered  only  its  effect  upon  Ger- 
many ;  but  the  mental  stagnation  which  prevailed  among 
us  had,  so  far  as  it  concerned  political  life,  extended 
almost  all  over  Europe.  The  independence  of  "  Burger- 
ship  "  was  destroyed,  and  the  citizens  subordinated  them- 
selves to  the  nobles,  whose  sole  aim  was  to  maintain  the 
existing  order  of  things.  The  ruling  lords  reigned  with 
absolute  authority  ;  and  it  seemed  as  if  the  further  devel- 
opment of  European  history  was  to  consist  of  incessant 
struggles  to  uphold  the  majesty  of  the  families  possessed 


48  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

of  power.  All  public  institutions  served,  directly  or  in- 
directly, this  single  aim.  Catholic  and  Protestant  clergy 
alike  sustained,  with  entire  willingness,  such  views. 
With  all  European  nobles  and  officials  one  question  only 
came  to  be  of  importance  ;  namely,  whether  they  were  in 
favor  or  disfavor  at  court.  To  win  the  former,  and  to 
avoid  the  latter,  was  the  secret  of  all  superior  education. 
An  overthrow  of  such  conditions  was  nowhere  attempted  ; 
and  one  may  say  that  in  the  year  1700  the  European 
world  had  so  conformed  to  this  state  of  things  that  it 
appeared  as  immutable  as  the  elements,  or  as  man  him- 
self. No  one  could  believe  that  while  Europeans  lived 
together  they  could  possibly  maintain  other  social  rela- 
tions than  such  as  had  existed.  It  seemed  to  have  been 
always  so,  and  that  it  must  ever  remain  so. 

There  is  an  anecdote  of  a  picture  of  the  Flood,  in  which 
one  of  the  men  swimming  for  his  life  is  represented  bear- 
ing in  his  hand  a  roll  of  parchment,  while  a  card  hangs 
from  his  mouth,  on  which  is  written,  "  Sauvez  les  papiers 
de  la  famille  Montmorency."  Of  course,  the  Montmo- 
rencys  were  not  so  far  lost  as  to  assert  that  they  actually 
existed  before  the  Flood ;  but  the  hypothesis  was  that 
powerful  families  were  of  almost  any  age, — like  the  great 
Roman  families  who  derived  their  origin  from  the  gods 
themselves.  They  believed  in  an  eternal  continuance  as 
much  as  Horace  did,  who,  when  wishing  to  express  the 
idea  of  infinitude,  wrote,  "so  long  as  the  Tarpeian  maiden 
shall  mount  the  Capitol."  Hence  the  universal  uncon- 
cern when,  in  the  face  of  these  conditions,  the  feeling 
arose  that  all  was  not  right.  Hence,  also,  sprang  up 
among  those  looking  farther,  and  seeing  the  absolute  im- 
possibility of  continuing  these  relations,  the  conviction 
that  men  could  not  by  degrees  work  out  of  them  and 
pass  over  to  something  relatively  better ;  but  that  a  total 


EUROPE    IX   THE    EIGHTEENTH    CENTURY.        49 

overthrow  must  ensue,  from  the  ruins  of  which,  perhaps 
(as  something  wholly  new),  simple  natural  conditions 
might  be  evolved. 

These  two  moods  —  the  one  a  feeling  of  absolute  se- 
curity in  the  enjoyment  of  the  present,  the  other  awaiting 
a  chaos  to  result  in  an  entirely  new  creation  —  charac- 
terized the  first  half  of  the  last  century.  Men  lived 
merrily  on,  and  regarded  the  course  of  things  with  frivo- 
lous irony.  This  is  the  meaning  of  the  phrase,  "  apres 
nous  le  de'luge."  Louis  XV.  —  the  sublimest  representa- 
tive of  this  monstrous  frivolity,  which  hurried  the  people 
recklessly  on  —  candidly  admits  the  impending  end  of  all 
things,  but  commits  it  to  future  generations  to  atone  for 
the  sins  of  their  forefathers.  But  that  he  himself,  or 
his  immediate  family,  could  be  concerned  in  it  never  oc- 
curred to  him.  He  believed  in  a  deluge  in  the  vague 
future ;  at  all  events  he  calculated  on  a  postponement 
of  the  Day  of  Judgment  for  at  least  one  or  two  hundred 
years.  For  this  reason,  and  without  much  anxiety,  men 
left  it  to  the  philanthropists  (who  were  beginning  to  be 
busy  with  the  subject)  to  construct  new  kingdoms  in 
which  freedom  might  find  a  home,  and  where  philosophers 
should  reign  supreme.  Attempts  of  this  kind  became  more 
significant  as  the  signs  increased  that  not  the  distant 
future,  but  a  living  generation  was  to  pass  through  the 
experience  of  universal  bankruptcy.  The  history  of  Rob- 
inson Crusoe,  who  like  Adam  was  forced  to  begin  life 
anew  and  alone  upon  a  desolate  island,  was  the  embodi- 
ment, in  the  form  of  an  innocent  romance,  of  the  thought 
that  each  one  like  Robinson  might  suffer  shipwreck,  and 
with  somewhat  pitiful  household  implements  be  driven  to 
fabricate  a  new  life.  Ideas  of  this  kind  began  to  be  pop- 
ular. And  now  it  happened  that  just  in  the  middle  of 
the  century  a  sudden  maturity  of  the  public  mind  an- 

4 


50  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

nounced  itself,  and  that  one  morning  the  hitherto  indif- 
ferent and  frivolous  masses  were  overpowered  by  the 
thought,  and  passionately  grappled  with  the  question,  of 
the  possible  improvement  of  the  world. 

The  three  men  who  brought  about  this  revolution  in 
France,  or  rather  in  Paris,  which  at  that  time  in  quite  a 
different  sense  from  to-day  was  called  "  the  brain  of 
mankind,"  were  Voltaire,  Rousseau,  and  Diderot. 

Voltaire  had  ploughed  up  the  soil  of  France,  and  made 
it  ready  for  the  new  seed,  which  Rousseau  began  imme- 
diately after  to  sow.  Diderot,  scarcely  to  be  compared 
with  the  two  former,  must  notwithstanding  be  named, 
because  he  was  the  most  able  of  all  the  writers  of  the  sec- 
ond rank  who,  in  the  spirit  of  Voltaire  and  Rousseau, 
labored  to  accelerate  the  growth  of  the  young  seed. 
Diderot  succeeded,  although  he  was  no  poet,  in  investing 
these  new  ideas  with  an  aesthetic  literary  form.  He 
invented  prosaic  tragedy,  —  the  so-called  "  come'die  lar- 
moyante,"  whose  representative  in  Germany  was  Les- 
sing.  Lessing's  principal  drama  in  this  vein  is  "  Miss 
Sarah  Sampson,"  and  Goethe's  chief  work  upon  this 
model  is  "  Clavigo."  Diderot  figures  to-day,  among 
classic  writers,  only  as  a  critic  and  narrator.  His  theat- 
rical works  are  insufferable  and  thrown  aside. 

Voltaire  was  best  characterized  by  Goethe,  when  he  said 
that  he  was  an  incarnation  of  all  the  qualities  of  the  French 
nation,  good  and  bad.  Voltaire  is  the  most  glorious 
Frenchman  to  be  found  in  all  history.  Even  the  element 
of  personal  bravery  was  not  wanting.  He  once  challenged 
a  nobleman  who  had  insulted  him,  and  would  not  give 
up  the  duel  until  he  was  imprisoned  in  the  Bastile  at  the 
instigation  of  his  antagonist.  Goethe  has  emphatically 
declared  Voltaire  to  be  the  originator  of  the  French  Rev- 
olution, by  saying  that  he  loosened  all  the  ties  which 


VOLTAIRE'S  INFLUENCE  ON  EUROPE.         51 

had  hitherto  bound  men  together.  Voltaire  died  before 
its  outbreak.  The  only  circumstance  which  hindered 
him  from  working  with  even  mightier  power  was  that 
entrance  into  the  highest  Parisian  circles  had  been  made 
too  easy  for  him.  Had  his  agitating  head  been  set  on  the 
body  of  a  man  in  the  lower  ranks  of  life,  whom  poverty 
and  destitution  had  embittered  and  filled  with  antipathy 
to  these  higher  classes,  Voltaire  might  have  saved  the 
men  coming  after  him  a  great  part  of  their  revolutionary 
work.  On  the  other  side,  it  need  scarcely  be  said  that 
an  extraordinary  opportunity  was  afforded  Voltaire,  by 
his  unlimited  social  intercourse,  to  spread  his  ideas  in  all 
directions.  Never  has  a  writer  so  entirely  governed  the 
epoch  in  which  he  lived  as  Voltaire.  Even  to-day  he  is 
considered  one  of  the  greatest  of  historians. 

As  a  young  author,  Voltaire,  driven  from  Paris,  had 
taken  refuge  in  England,  which,  with  the  United  Neth- 
erlands, represented  in  the  last  century  German  Prot- 
estant freedom.  Political  independence  and  undisturbed 
philosophical  convictions  were  there  granted  to  every 
one.  If  it  were  possible  to  find  a  model  anywhere  for 
the  reconstruction  of  the  rest  of  Europe,  England  natu- 
rally presented  herself  as  that  model. 

And  it  was  this  which  Voltaire  perceived  on  the  spot. 
He  studied  English  philosophy.  To  him  was  vouchsafed 
the  marvellous  double  gift  to  become  quickly  imbued  with, 
foreign  ideas,  and  then  to  revolve  them  with  indefatigable 
care  until,  having  eliminated  every  superfluous  word, 
he  was  able  to  give  his  writings  that  ease  and  grace 
which  all  literary  form  demands  in  order  to  be  effec- 
tive. Voltaire  added  to  an  unlimited  power  of  pro- 
duction an  immense  capacity  for  self-criticism.  The 
works  in  which  he  brought  the  moral  and  political 
aspects  of  English  philosophy  before  the  Parisian  public 


52  LIFE   AOT)    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

produced  a  tremendous  sensation.  From  that  moment 
began  the  earnest  agitation  of  mind  in  France.  Voltaire 
had  created  with  his  writings  the  elements  with  which 
Rousseau  could  work.  Rousseau  was  younger  than  Vol- 
taire, and  found  his  public  ready  for  him.  As  an  artist, 
Rousseau  stood  far  below  Voltaire's  height.  But  he  did 
not  need  to  adapt  and  polish  his  writings  so  much,  for 
his  style  naturally  possessed  the  quality  —  the  only  one 
which,  perhaps,  Voltaire's  lacked  —  of  vital  heat,  pene- 
trating instantly  to  the  heart  of  the  reader,  and,  where 
it  is  a  question  of  success  with  one  generation  only, 
far  exceeding  any  effect  of  art.  Rousseau  had  raised 
himself  from  the  dregs  of  society,  and,  although  inter- 
course with  the  highest  circles  was  forced  upon  him 
from  many  directions,  he  always  remained  a  plebeian. 
Rousseau  moved  forward  recklessly  because  it  was  his 
nature,  arid  because  he  so  willed  it.  He  had  nothing  to 
do  with  generalizations,  but  attacked  things  practically. 
In  colossal  literary  efforts  he  discussed,  one  by  one,  the 
seething  ideas  which  disquieted  the  minds  of  men,  and 
aroused  for  himself,  far  and  wide,  undisguised  hatred  and 
open  love.  Voltaire,  in  all  his  writings,  always  remained 
the  artist.  He  had  exhibited  the  existing  order  of  things 
in  such  a  light,  by  turning  them  hither  and  thither,  that 
finally  every  one  was  convinced  that  their  condition  was  no 
longer  tenable  or  practicable ;  but  he  had  addressed  himself 
chiefly  to  the  higher  classes.  Rousseau,  on  the  contrary, 
appealed  to  every  one.  Each  felt  him  to  be  like  himself. 
Voltaire  had  only  been  able  to  interest  the  Germans  : 
Rousseau  agitated  them.  His  ideas  had  penetrated 
Herder's  soul.  He  was  related  to  Rousseau  in  his  whole 
nature  ;  for  as  a  solitary,  poor  young  man,  in  the  extreme 
east  of  Germany,  Herder  had  striven  to  raise  himself  in 
the  opinion  of  the  people.  He  came  out  against  Rousseau 


EOUSSEAU'S   "  STATE   OF   NATURE."  53 

and   criticised   him,  but  bore  him  in  his  soul  all  the 
while. 

We  have  seen  that  in  Strasburg  Goethe  knew  not 
what  to  make  of  Rousseau's  writings.  A  great  man  is 
not  always  immediately  understood :  he  needs  his  prophet. 
In  Rousseau's  influence  over  Herder  I  refer  not  so  much 
to  definite  statements  which  he  accepted  from  him,  but 
to  something  which  might  be  compared  to  electricity, 
passing  through  Herder  to  Goethe,  who  would  not  other- 
wise have  come  in  contact  with  it.  Rousseau  saw  only 
one  means  of  freeing  the  people  from  their  burdensome 
tyranny :  each  one  of  them  must  be  made  sensible  of 
the  laws  and  duties  imposed  upon  him  by  the  fact  that 
he  is  a  part  of  his  nation.  In  his  eyes  each  nation  was 
an  individual,  responsible  for  its  own  fate.  Rousseau 
addressed  himself  to  the  French  nation  as  if  that  alone 
was  in  question ;  but  every  other  nation  might  apply  his 
theories  to  itself,  and  so  other  countries  merely  substi- 
tuted "  mankind  "  for  "  France."  The  distinctly  national 
political  feeling  which  now-a-days  is  thought  to  belong 
to  a  true  patriotism,  was  at  that  time  wholly  unknown. 
Even  in  France  men  regarded  humanity  only  as  a  whole. 
The  development  of  mankind,  which  was  the  fundamen- 
tal idea  in  Herder's  soul  and  the  basis  of  all  his  works, 
would  never  have  been  built  up  within  him  without  the 
help  of  Rousseau.  Rousseau's  dogma,  that  all  civiliza- 
tion is  but  deterioration  from  an  originally  perfect  state, 
corresponded  so  exactly  to  the  universal  feeling  that  it 
was  accepted  without  question  :  "  All  is  good  that  comes 
from  the  hand  of  the  Creator ;  all  is  ruined  by  man. 
The  way  must  be  found  back  to  our  original  condition." 
To-day  the  theory  most  widely  accepted  assumes  it  to  be 
scientifically  proved  that  mankind  has  been  developed 
from  the  animal ;  and  it  is  not  regarded  as  necessary  for 


54  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

the*individual  to  furnish  any  proof  of  this  before  accept- 
ing it.  In  the  time  of  Rousseau  the  contrary  doctrine  of 
original  perfection  was  received  with  universal  credulity. 
In  a  certain  sense  it  offered  nothing  new.  Theology  has 
always  repeated  the  story  of  a  lost  Paradise  ;  but  Rous- 
seau wished  to  show  how,  without  Christianity,  philoso- 
phy led  back  to  this  Paradise.  Herder  was  the  first  to 
draw  from  these  teachings  conclusions  applicable  to  poetic 
art :  "  The  poet  should  go  back  to  pure  Nature."  Nature 
here  meant  "  his  own  creative  power  obeying  the  inward 
voice."  We  should  go  back  for  teachers  to  those  poets  who 
stood  prominent  among  their  people.  Winckelmann  had 
pointed  to  the  Greeks,  and  showed  how  art  with  them 
was  the  blossom  of  the  entire  life  of  the  nation.  Herder 
studied  the  Psalms,  the  songs  of  Homer,  Pindar,  Ossian, 
and  above  all  Shakspeare  ;  and  with  these,  like  woodland 
flowers  sown  by  no  human  hand,  but  which  spring  up 
about  the  trunks  of  giant  oaks,  the  Folksongs.  While 
the  stormy  wind  tosses  the  branches  overhead,  the  grasses 
beneath  are  gently  stirred  by  the  sighing  breath  from  the 
yearning  heart  of  Nature.  Herder  did  not  present  to  the 
people  a  critically  ingenious  exegesis  of  these  studies  :  he 
was  ever  the  preacher.  Herder's  writings  are  intelligible 
only  as  sermons.  It  is  not  for  the  preacher  to  offer  on 
special  occasions  carefully  studied  productions  afterward 
to  be  printed,  but  at  every  opportunity  to  pour  out  from  a 
full  heart  living  words.  We  must  think  of  what  Herder 
says  as  spoken  words  if  we  would  rightly  judge  him. 

Goethe  was  twenty-one  years  old  when  he  met  Herder. 
He  was  in  a  state  of  ferment.  He  sought  a  master.  He 
had  never  found  anybody  who  made  him  say  to  himself  : 
"  This  man  knows  more  than  I  do !  He  is  in  the  pos- 
session of  secrets  which  can  help  me!"  At  last  came 
one  whose  first  words  were  decisive :  to  him  he  submit- 


GOETHE'S  FIRST  EARNEST  LOVE.  55 

ted.  And  what  strengthened  Herder's  mastery  over 
Goethe  was  the  manner  in  which  he  received  his  devo- 
tion. Herder,  accustomed  to  such  submission,  saw 
nothing  peculiar  in  Goethe's  homage,  and  treated  him 
with  indifference.  Sometimes  it  almost  seemed  as  if 
Herder  secretly  felt  Goethe's  strength,  and  perhaps  un- 
consciously tried  to  hinder  his  rising  too  high  beside  him. 

The  beginning  of  Goethe's  real  productiveness  we  may 
date  from  this  time.  His  previous  labors  had  been  only 
aimless  attempts.  Goethe  had  intuitively  recognized  the 
right  direction  :  now  Herder  came  to  show  him  the  way. 
Goethe  enters  that  period  of  joyous,  youthful,  self-con- 
fidence which  made  him  so  attractive,  and  which  he  so 
fully  sustained  in  the  years  which  followed. 

But  now  we  have  something  to  place  in  opposition  to 
all  this.  Goethe,  feeling  that  it  was  the  most  important 
event  of  his  life,  has  related  at  some  length  in  "  Dichtung 
und  Wahrheit"  his  meeting  with  Herder  in  Strasburg. 
Yet  even  this,  and  his  experiences  with  all  his  other 
friends  and  acquaintances,  seem  only  the  frame  for  an 
event  which  was  the  true  centre  of  his  Strasburg  life. 
How  he  found  and  loved  Frederika  Brion  in  Sesenheim 
is  described  with  quite  another  pen.  If  Goethe  had  be- 
come only  a  great  philosophic  statesman  or  scholar,  he 
would,  perhaps,  in  later  years,  when  recounting  and 
arranging  the  events  of  his  life,  scarcely  have  mentioned 
Frederika ;  but  the  eye  of  the  poet  looked  at  the  matter 
from  a  higher  point.  Goethe  felt,  when  recalling  the  days 
of  his  youth,  that  in  the  opening  bloom  of  this  love 
whose  long-exhaled  perfume  had  once  enchanted  him 
were  contained  the  most  precious  moments  of  his  life, 
and  knew  only  too  well  that  it  had  been  more  to  him 
than  all  else.  To  Frederika  he  owed  most,  and  to  her 
he  was  the  most  grateful.  To  her  his  eyes  turned  back 


66  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

more  fondly  than  to  all  else,  and  everything  about  her  he 
remembers  more  clearly  than  all  else. 

Goethe  has  shown  his  utmost  skill  in  painting  this 
maiden  in  the  purest  and  most  beautiful  colors.  His 
Leipsic  love-affairs  seem  child's  play  compared  with  this. 
They  arose  in  sport ;  and  when  they  were  ended  they 
were  spoken  of  in  a  graceful  strain  of  sad  despair.  She 
was  the  first  he  earnestly  loved,  —  the  first  whose  heart 
he  broke,  and  whom  he  never  could  forget.  After  a  long 
life,  full  of  much  excitement,  which  had  ever  more  and 
more  dimmed  his  memory,  he  was  forced,  in  describing 
that  life,  to  linger  over  every  moment  of  this  experience. 
To  write  is  more  than  merely  to  remember.  In  order  to 
surround  Frederika  with  the  utmost  glamour,  Goethe  has 
treated  himself  with  a  harshness  in  which  alone  is  im- 
plied, if  it  were  really  necessary,  a  late  expiation.  Fred- 
erika, in  Goethe's  delineation,  is  invested  with  something 
inexpressibly  touching,  as  if  youth  had  again  been  given 
to  him  and  to  her,  and  once  more  the  possibility  granted 
them  never  to  separate. 


FEEDERIKA   IN   SESEXIIEIM.  57 


LECTURE  IV. 

FEEDERIKA    IN     SESENHEIM.  —  DOCTOR'S     DEGREE.  —  RETURN 
TO    FRANKFORT. 

TpREDERIKA,  as  represented  in  "  Dichtung  und 
•*-  Wahrheit,"  is  not,  as  we  say,  copied  from  nature ; 
but  Goethe  endows  the  being  created  in  his  imagination 
with  so  many  of  the  minor  features  of  his  friend  that  it 
bears  a  striking  resemblance  to  her.  This  appearance  of 
reality  which  the  artist  lends  to  his  pictures  is  the  high- 
est effect  of  art.  It  is  as  if  not  he,  but  Nature,  had 
wrought,  and  he  had  only  faithfully  copied  the  model. 
Indeed,  the  better  he  succeeds  in  this  the  more  perfect 
will  his  creations  be,  and  the  more  vivid  their  effect  upon 
others  ;  while  he  who  does  not  first  carefully  go  through 
this  process  of  simply  copying  what  Nature  offers  will  at 
best  produce  only  an  unpleasant  counterfeit,  dumb  and 
lifeless,  because  he  could  not  invest  it  with  speech  and 
motion.  This  is  why  many  portraits  which  are  striking 
likenesses  frighten  us;  and  why  photographs  reproducing 
the  sharpest  reality  can  never  be  considered  as  works  of 
art,  however  much  skill  and  experience  may  be  expended 
in  preparing  them.  Photographic  portraits,  to  which  the 
retoucheur  has  not  lent  a  deceitful  conventionality,  when 
long  examined,  give  the  impression  of  some  one  before 
us  in  a  state  of  cramp-like  rigidity. 

As   regards  Frederika,  Goethe  has   succeeded  in   an 
eminent  degree  in  convincing  us  that  the  portrait  lie  has 


58  LIFE    AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

drawn  is  a  most  faithful  likeness  of  the  actual  parson's 
daughter  at  Sesenheim,  whom  he  once  lovedi  Therefore 
we  are  ready  to  swear  that  Frederika  must  have  been  ex- 
actly like  this,  —  only  in  our  secret  souls  we  are  inclined 
to  believe  her  to  have  been  much  more  charming  than 
Goethe  describes  her.  We  think  he  has  not  done  her 
justice.  And  this  is  the  effect  produced  by  truly  artistic 
creations.  —  that  he  who  contemplates  them  believes  he 
understands  them  better  than  the  artist  himself ;  as  if 
the  poet  had  been  only  a  chosen  instrument  commissioned 
by  Providence  to  bring  a  being  into  the  world  which  lives 
a  life  of  its  own.  Like  children  who  as  soon  as  they  are 
individuals  show  themselves  independent  of  their  parents, 
so  creations  like  Hamlet,  Juliet,  and  Faust  appear  to  as- 
sert a  certain  independence  of  their  creator,  and  strangers 
approaching  them  believe  that  they  understand  them  bet- 
ter than  their  authors  do.  Many  of  the  interpreters  of 
Hamlet  seem  to  imagine  that  they  knew  the  prince  at  least 
as  well  as  Shakspeare  did  himself.  In  the  representation 
of  this  drama  the  public  has  objected  to  the  tragic  end  of 
the  prince ;  while  Alexandre  Dumas  the  Elder,  who  has 
rendered  the  tragedy  in  French  Alexandrines,  just  at  the 
end  makes  the  ghost  of  the  father  appear  again  and  ad- 
vise Hamlet  to  seize  the  reins  of  government,  and  wishes 
him  the  best  success,  —  which  then  really  happens.  I  re- 
member that  one  of  my  young  friends  repeatedly  insisted 
that  Shakspeare  had  no  right  to  kill  Romeo  and  Juliet. 
If  similar  discussions  had  gone  on  in  his  lifetime  Shak- 
speare would  only  have  found  in  them  most  flattering 
proofs  that  he  had  been  so  fortunate  as  to  create  genuine 
living  beings ;  and  Goethe,  when  exposed  to  the  severest 
reproof  for  having  faithlessly  deserted  such  an  enchanting 
creature  as  Frederika,  only  found  the  assurance  that  the 
result  had  been  attained  which  he  sought  to  produce. 


THE  DANCING-MASTER'S  DAUGHTERS.         59 

It  would  be  in  vain  to  try  to  decide  how  nearly  Goethe's 
Frederika  and  the  original  Frederika  coincide.  Influ- 
enced as  we  are  by  Goethe's  poetry,  we  find  the  maiden 
as  captivating  as  he  describes  her.  I  will  try,  so  far  as 
possible,  to  distinguish  the  two  figures,  —  the  ideal  and 
the  real.  In  order  to  do  this,  it  is»necessary  to  consider 
with  what  artistic  means  the  delineation  of  his  experience 
at  Sesenheim  was  accomplished. 

By  way  of  introduction,  in  order  to  excite  the  anticipa- 
tion of  a  tragic  end,  he  relates  his  adventure  with  the 
daughters  of  the  old  French  dancing-master,  —  a  little 
narrative  complete  in  itself,  whose  close  makes  a  thrilling 
dramatic  scene ;  the  whole,  in  its  way,  a  model  for  a 
modern  novel.  The  story  runs  thus :  Of  the  two  daugh- 
ters of  the  dancing-master,  the  younger  excites  Goethe's 
interest ;  while  the  elder,  Lucinda,  without  his  dreaming 
of  it,  falls  in  love  with  him.  Goethe  describes  how  one 
day  Lucinda  storms  into  the  room  just  as  he  is  on  the 
point  of  committing  himself  to  the  younger  aister,  inter- 
rupts them  passionately,  declares  her  love,  and,  after 
renouncing  him  in  favor  of  her  younger  sister,  bids  him 
farewell  and  closes  his  lips  with  a  kiss,  which  she  avows 
shall  bring  ruin  to  the  one  next  kissed  by  those  lips. 
Goethe  leaves  the  house,  never  to  enter  it  again.  The 
reader,  with  a  certain  fluttering  of  the  heart,  waits  to 
hear  on  whom  this  curse  will  fall. 

Before  Frederika  appears,  in  order  still  further  to 
heighten  the  effect,  and  at  the  same  time  to  prepare  us  to 
see  the  inmates  of  the  clergyman's  house  at  Sesenheim  as 
in  a  mirror,  Goethe  gives  an  account  of  Herder's  read- 
ing the  "Vicar  of  Wakefield."  This  romance  —  only 
known  to-day  as  an  old-fashioned  novel,  out  of  which  one 
takes  his  first  lessons  in  English,  as  one  learns  French 
out  of  "  Paul  and  Virginia,"  and  Italian  out  of  "  I  Pro- 


60  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

messi  Sposi "  — possessed  at  that  time  the  charm  of  per- 
fect novelty.  Goethe  relates  how  Herder  read  it  to 
his  young  friends,  and  the  conversation  which  grew  out 
of  it  exposes  a  new  side  of  Herder's  character.  Herder 
knew  how  to  produce  the  greatest  effect,  and  at  the  same 
time  to  destroy  it  again  ;  and,  even  at  this  early  day,  he 
showed  the  power  to  inspire  and  elevate,  and  at  the  same 
time  to  depress  and  dishearten.  The  Vicar  of  Wakefield 
is  the  head  of  a  family,  which,  through  a  series  of  calami- 
ties, sinks  into  a  condition  of  the  greatest  misery  ;  but  at 
last,  after  all  the  characters  have  been  purified  and 
strengthened  by  these  trials,  their  hard  fate  is  mitigated, 
better  times  come,  all  obstacles  disappear,  and  we  take 
leave  of  the  family  in  the  full  sunshine  of  the  happiness 
they  enjoyed  when  we  first  made  their  acquaintance. 

In  this  way  we  are  prepared  for  Sesenheim  without 
knowing  it.  It  seems  as  if  we  were  opening  a  wholly 
new  chapter,  which  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  foregoing. 
It  was  in  the  spring  of  1771.  Herder  has  left  Stras- 
burg.  Goethe  has  every  reason  to  concentrate  himself 
upon  the  study  of  law,  since  he  wishes  to  obtain  in  the 
autumn  his  degree.  But  the  glorious  country  allures 
him,  and  there  is  also  his  inborn  impulse  never  to  leave 
a  spot  of  earth  on  which  he  has  once  dwelt  without  hav- 
ing thoroughly  explored  it.  Alsace  between  the  Rhine 
and  Vosges,  a  separate  province,  reminds  one,  it  is  said, 
of  Switzerland.  People  have  wandered  through  the  prov- 
ince from  end  to  end,  until  at  last  every  path  in  valley 
or  mountain  has  been  traversed.  There  have  always 
been  learned  men  and  lovers  of  Nature  who  were  at 
home  in  Alsace,  and  who  thoroughly  knew  its  history 
and  exact  topography.  The  laud  has  its  own  history 
and  its  peculiar  character. 

Among  Goethe's  acquaintances  was  a  born  Alsatian, 


HE  LOVES  TO  TRAVEL  INCOGNITO.      61 

who  was  in  the  habit  of  enlivening  his  quiet  existence  by 
occasional  visits  to  relatives  and  friends  in  the  neighbor- 
hood :  with  him  Goethe  planned  a  visit  to  one  of  his 
relatives,  —  the  Parson  Brion  in  Sesenheim. 

Goethe  always  had  a  fancy  for  presenting  himself  in 
disguise,  or  under  a  feigned  name.  According  to  his  ten- 
dency to  contemplate  things  objectively,  he  was  most 
comfortable  incognito.  When  a  Leipsic  student  he  made 
in  this  manner  his  renowned  journey  to  Dresden,  where 
he  took  up  his  abode  with  the  Socratic  shoemaker,  whose 
household  he  so  picturesquely  describes.  In  later  years, 
on  his  lonely  winter  journey  into  the  Hartz  from  Wei- 
mar, he  allowed  himself  to  be  presented  under  a  feigned 
name  to  Plessing,  in  Wernigerode,  who  had  repeatedly 
appealed  to  him  by  letter  for  advice  in  his  spiritual  need. 
Goethe  left  him  without  acknowledging  who  he  was.  In 
Rome  he  lived  the  first  few  weeks  unmolested,  shielded 
by  a  disguise  ;  in  Sicily  he  thus  visited  the  Balsamo  fam- 
ily ;  and  the  list  of  his  adventures  of  this  kind  might  be 
greatly  increased. 

In  his  visit  to  Parson  Brion  his  fancy  for  assuming  a 
disguise  also  appears.  He  resolves  to  make  his  debut  in 
the  character  of  a  shabby  theological  student ;  borrows  a 
suit  of  threadbare  clothes,  brushes  his  profuse  and  orna- 
mental locks  straight  back,  and  rides  off  with  his  friend 
one  morning  in  May,  1771.  The  ride  is  so  graphically 
described  that  the  reader  believes  himself  to  be  an 
invisible  member  of  the  party,  trotting  along  with  them. 
First  of  all,  in  Goethean  fashion,  we  must  have  firm 
ground  under  our  feet, —  the  excellent  road,  the  splendid 
weather,  the  Rhine  so  near,  the  fruitful  country,  the 
plain,  with  the  misty  mountains  in  the  distance.  Finally, 
the  two  riders  turn  aside  from  the  broad  road  into  the 
blossoming  lane  leading  to  Sesenheim,  leave  their  horses 


62  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

in  the  village,  and  betake  themselves  to  the  parson's 
house.  How  exactly  we  are  informed  in  regard  to  every 
detail  of  this  house !  Where  building  was  to  be  done, 
Goethe  was  constantly  at  hand.  A  rebuilding  of  the 
parson's  house  was  necessary,  and  Goethe's  interest  in 
the  plans  was  one  of  the  ways  in  which  he  later  won  the 
old  parson's  favor.  He  drew  sketches  for  it  with  his 
own  hand,  some  of  which  Riemer  —  Goethe's  amanuensis 
in  the  last  years  of  his  life — discovered  among  his  papers. 
The  parson  receives  the  two  students  alone :  the 
daughters  are  out.  Now  we  see  with  what  skill  Frederika 
is  brought  into  the  scene.  Here  we  recognize,  not  alone 
the  experienced  writer,  but  the  theatre-director.  First, 
he  allows  the  older  sister  to  storm  in  inquiring  for  Fred- 
erika. A  slight  impatience  seizes  us,  and  with  it  the 
expectation  to  find  in  Frederika  the  opposite  of  this  vehe- 
mence ;  but  he  still  holds  her  back.  For  a  second  time 
must  the  sister,  Salomea, —  Goethe  calls  her  Olivia,  in 
remembrance  of  the  oldest  daughter  in  the  "  Vicar  of 
Wakefield,"  —  come  hurriedly  into  the  room  again,  and 
ask  for  Frederika.  "  Let  her  alone  :  she  will  come  back 
of  herself,"  quietly  replies  the  father.  Frederika  is  be- 
lated in  her  ramble.  Now  is  added  to  mere  expectation 
the  anxiety  lest  something  has  befallen  her.  Finally,  she 
appears  ;  and  now,  when  curiosity  is  at  its  highest  point, 
with  a  few  masterly  touches  he  paints  the  beautiful  girl. 
Frederika  is  introduced  as  heroine  and  principal  charac- 
ter, without  having  done  anything  more  than  simply  allow- 
ing herself  to  be  expected.  She  wears  the  German  cos- 
tume—  a  short  white  skirt,  with  a  furbelow;  "the  daintiest 
feet  visible ;  "  a  closely-fitting  white  boddice,  and  a  black 
taffeta  apron,  —  the  whole  dress  something  between  a 
city  girl's  and  a  peasant's.  Merry  blue  eyes ;  pretty 
nose,  slightly  retroussd;  a  straw  hat,  which  she  bears  on 


FREDERIKA,    THE    P  ARSON'S    DAUGHTER.          63 

her   arm,  —  the  whole   effect   charming.     With   a  few 
touches  a  lovely  picture  is  here  painted. 

Father,  mother,  and  daughters  now  try  to  make  the  two 
poor  students  comfortable.  The  sisters  begin  an  amusing 
gossip  about  the  entire  neighborhood.  Frederika  then 
plays  on  the  piano,  as  one  plays  in  the  country,  on  an 
out-of-tune  instrument.  "  Let  us  go  out,"  she  said, "and 
then  you  shall  hear  some  of  my  Alsace  and  Swiss  songs." 

Now  Goethe  is  struck  with  the  resemblance  of  the 
family  to  that  of  the  Vicar  of  Wakefield.  This  completes 
the  picture  for  the  reader,  and  at  the  same  time  hints 
that  stormy  days  are  coming,  and  that  these  good,  quiet 
people  are  to  be  exposed  to  trials. 

At  night,  in  the  tavern,  Goethe  reviews  with  his  friend 
the  occurrences  of  the  day.  The  likeness  of  the  family 
to  the  one  in  the  romance  is  talked  over,  and  Goethe's 
thoughts  instantly  anticipate  all  the  consequences  of  such 
a  comparison.  Into  the  family  of  the  Vicar,  Thornhill, 
the  seducer  of  one  of  the  daughters,  had  also  stolen  in 
disguise.  Goethe  compares  himself  to  this  man ;  and 
this  alone  —  though  without  a  shadow  of  guilt  —  is  suffi- 
cient to  awaken  in  him  the  most  violent  remorse.  This 
is  perfectly  conceivable.  The  innocence  and  truth  of 
the  people  likewise  create  in  us-  a  feeling  of  aversion 
to  Goethe's  deception.  He  had  observed  in  his  walk 
through  the  fields  the  respect  with  which  the  peasants 
greeted  the  young  maiden.  He  had  walked  with  Frederika 
in  the  moonlight ;  but  "  her  talk  had  nothing  moonshiny 
in  it,  for  the  clearness  with  which  she  expressed  herself 
made  the  night  day."  In  contrast  to  all  this,  he  had 
been  acting  a  part.  The  next  morning,  overwhelmed 
with  the  unworthiness  of  his  rdle,  he  throws  himself 
upon  his  horse  and  rides  away.  He  intends  to  return  to 
Strasburg ;  but,  as  each  particular  event  of  the  previous 


64  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

day  recurs  to  his  inind,  he  rides  more  slowly,  and  finally 
turns  back.  In  Drusenheim  lie  stops.  Before  the  tavern 
he  meets  the  son  of  the  landlord  in  his  Sunday  clothes, 
with  ribbons  in  his  hat,  just  starting  to  carry  a  christen- 
ing-cake to  the  parson's  wife  at  Sesenheim.  With  him 
Goethe  exchanges  clothes,  to  attempt  a  new  masquerade. 
Bearing  the  cake  in  his  hand,  he  soon  again  reaches  the 
parsonage  at  Sesenheim.  He  is  not  recognized  until 
Frederika  comes  towards  him,  and  even  she  at  first  takes 
him  for  the  person  to  whom  the  dress  belongs,  and  says 
familiarly,  "  George,  what  are  you  doing  here  ?  "  Then 
she  suddenly  becomes  aware  of  her  mistake,  and  "  her 
delicate  cheeks  are  suffused  with  the  loveliest  blushes." 
We  now  hear,  little  by  little,  what  further  happens  at 
Sesenheim,  —  how  Goethe  fascinates  the  whole  family; 
how  he  establishes  himself  in  some  special  relation  to 
each  member  of  it ;  and  how  wildly  he  surrenders  himself 
to  his  rapture.  We  are  still  touched  by  the  poems  he 
dedicated  at  this  time  to  Frederika.  Herder  had  been 
the  first  to  draw  his  attention  to  the  songs  of  the  people. 
Now  he  hears  Frederika  sing  them,  collects  them  from 
the  very  mouth  of  the  people,  and  adds  to  them  his  own 
glorious  verses  written  in  the  very  spirit  and  tone  of  the 
"  Volkslied."  How  conceivable  this  unrestrained  heed- 
lessness  in  Goethe !  How  conceivable,  also,  the  artless- 
ness  with  which  Frederika  responded  to  his  fancy,  as  she 
soon  with  a  sisterly  confidence  attached  herself  to  him  ! 

And  here  it  is  well  to  consider  that  at  that  time  such 
an  intimacy  was  not  peculiar.  The  intercourse  between 
young  people  at  that  period  was  perfectly  free  and  natural. 
As  a  young  man,  when  music  comes  in  as  a  third  ele- 
ment, may  take  a  young  lady  in  his  arms  and  move  with 
her  to  the  measure  of  the  dance,  so  the  universal  feeling 
throughout  Europe  at  that  time,  that  all  were  moving  on 


THE    ROMANCE    OF   FREDERIKA.  65 

toward  a  higher  existence,  came  like  music  into  every 
relation,  and  permitted  a  familiarity  which  is  no  longer 
allowed.  People  associated,  wrote  to  each  other,  and 
talked  openly  of  many  things  which  to-day  are  no  longer 
discussed  among  young  people  ;  nor  was  the  boundary  be- 
tween affianced  and  unaffianced  at  that  time  so  sharply 
denned.  Yet  the  more  freedom  allowed,  the  more  neces- 
sary in  special  cases  was  it  to  discriminate  how  far  matters 
might  go.  It  was  owing  to  this  that  Goethe,  who  was 
soon  looked  upon  and  treated  by  Frederika,  her  parents, 
and  her  relatives  as  her  lover,  took  this  position  without 
having  declared  himself.  He  was  bound  to  nothing,  and 
could  at  any  moment  go  as  he  had  come. 

Now  Goethe  describes  how,  in  the  fulness  of  his  en- 
thusiasm for  Frederika,  a  consciousness  dawned  upon 
him  that  his  love,  after  all,  existed  only  in  imagination. 
He  makes  this  discovery  before  one  binding  word  has 
been  said.  At  a  rural  feast  this  struggle  reaches  its 
climax.  Goethe,  who  has  not  decided  whether  to  fly  or 
to  remain,  brings  Frederika  to  the  confession  that  she 
loves  him  ;  and  the  first  kiss  is  given  and  received  by  the 
lips  upon  which  the  curse  had  fallen.  This  recurs  di- 
rectly to  Goethe's  mind.  In  the  night  Lucinda  appears 
to  him  in  a  dream  and  repeats  the  curse,  while  Frederika 
stands  opposite  to  her,  stiff  and  speechless  with  fright, 
not  comprehending  what  it  all  means.  The  narration  is 
wrought  up  to  the  highest  dramatic  reality,  and  we  await 
a  tragedy. 

Instead  of  this,  again  an  artistic  stroke  to  remind  us 
that  this  is  not  a  romance,  but  a  simple  account  of  what 
happened.  The  story  continues  in  the  old  calm  tone, 
as  the  life  of  the  maiden  and  her  parents  flows  quietly 
on  again.  Goethe,  considered  as  Frederika's  betrothed 
lover,  enjoys  the  growing  confidence  of  the  family.  He 

5 


66  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

comes  gut  oftener  to  Sesenheim,  stays  there  for  weeks, 
and  is  in  constant  correspondence  with  Frederika  ;  but 
lie  grows  ever  more  quiet  at  heart.  We  have  letters  from 
him  to  Salzmann  about  these  visits  to  Sesenheim.  In 
one  of  these  he  expresses  his  state  of  mind :  "  I  am  not 
really  in  my  inmost  soul  serene.  I  am  too  much  awake 
not  to  realize  that  I  am  trying  to  grasp  shadows."  The 
finishing  stroke  was  given  by  a  visit  of  the  sisters  to 
Strasburg,  where  Goethe  saw  them  torn  from  their  rural 
life,  and  transplanted  into  a  society  for  which  they  were 
not  educated.  But  Goethe  tells  how  Frederika  conducts 
herself  becomingly  notwithstanding,  and  here  discloses  a 
feature  of  her  character  which  has  always  seemed  to  me 
very  touching. 

She  claimed,  as  she  was  justified  in  doing,  what  Goethe 
called  his  "  services,"  and  one  evening  confides  to  him 
that  the  ladies  in  the  house  with  whom  they  are  staying 
wish  to  hear  him  read.  Goethe  takes  "  Hamlet,"  and 
reads  it  with  fire  from  beginning  to  end,  eliciting  great 
applause.  Frederika,  it  is  said,  had  from  time  to  time 
breathed  deeply,  and  the  color  came  and  went  in  her 
cheeks,  —  the  only  tokens  by  which  she  allowed  him  to 
know  how  proud  she  was  of  the  applause  bestowed  upon 
her  Goethe.  He  tells  us  further  of  the  elder  sister's  pas- 
sionate conduct,  who  felt  much  more  keenly  than  Fred- 
erika their  unfortunate  position,  and  wished  to  get  away 
from  Strasburg.  A  stone  was  lifted  from  his  heart 
when  he  finally  saw  them  both  depart.  Goethe  had  to 
confess  to  himself  that  his  dream  was  ended. 

But  there  was  no  violent  rupture  ;  and  this  gives  to 
the  last  moments  a  peculiar  sadness,  —  like  a  melody 
dying  gently  on  the  ear !  Slowly,  leaf  by  leaf,  as  the 
trees  in  autumn  lose  their  foliage,  the  early  confidence 
held  fast  to  the  very  end  !  No  word  of  reproof  when 


NATURE  OF  HIS  RELATIONS  WITH  FREDERIKA.      67 

Goethe,  on  the  point  of  leaving  Strasburg  forever,  ap- 
pears before  the  door  for  the  last  time,  and,  while  the 
tears  stand  in  Frederika's  eyes,  says  farewell,  —  giving 
her  his  hand  from  his  horse !  Only  later  he  receives 
from  her  a  heart-rending  letter  in  answer  to  his  written 
adieu.  Goethe  gives  us  to  understand  that  it  remained 
unanswered. 

Goethe's  conduct  is  such  that  it  is  almost  impossible 
not  to  draw  from  it  inferences  with  regard  to  his  charac- 
ter ;  and  since  "  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit "  was  published 
this  has  been  done,  —  many  persons  on"  this  account 
having  lost  their  enthusiasm  for  Goethe.  One  would  for- 
give him  much ;  but  to  have  broken  the  heart  of  such  a 
maiden  was  inhuman.  In  that  same  summer  Herder 
wrote  of  Goethe  that  he  did  not  consider  him  capable  of 
genuine  enthusiasm. 

Meanwhile  the  time  is  past  for  any  personal  defence  of 
Goethe.  We  may  to-day  revere  in  him  the  greatest  Ger- 
man poet,  without  making  it  a  duty  to  vindicate  all  he 
did.  We  look  at  things  not  more  coldly,  but  more  crit- 
ically. We  understand  him,  therefore,  when  in  his  own 
criticism  of  the  Sesenheim  affair  he  says  :  "  The  question 
is  not  with  regard  to  sentiments  and  actions,  how  far 
they  were  blamable  or  praiseworthy,  but  whether  such 
things  could  possibly  have  happened."  He  seems  to  say, 
"  Amuse  yourselves  with  the  story.  So  far  as  I  am  con- 
cerned it  was  necessary  that  I  should  become  what  I  am, 
with  my  faults  as  well  as  my  virtues  !  " 

To  look  at  the  matter  in  this  way  is  in  accordance  with 
our  present  ideas ;  and  the  more  so  because,  when  we  see 
men  placed  as  high  as  mortals  can  be  placed,  we  are  not, 
psychologically  considered,  comfortable  in  mind  until  we 
have  discovered  to  a  certainty  that  our  heroes  have  their 
weak  sides  like  common  men,  and,  above  all,  like  our- 


68  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

selves.  Then  we  feel  en  famille  with  them,  and  recog- 
nize their  virtues  only  so  much  the  more  unreservedly. 

But  before  this  mental  operation  is  needed  for  Goethe, 
we  should  be  sure  that  all  happened  as  recounted  in 
"  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit."  I  call  attention  to  one  ex- 
pression :  Goethe  says,  "  The  question  is,  whether  such 
thoughts  and  deeds  could  occur,  and  not  whether  they 
really  did."  This  is  a  distinction.  With  the  word  could, 
the  whole  Sesenheim  story  is  transferred  from  the  realm 
of  fact  to  that  of  possibility.  And,  indeed,  Goethe  has 
not  only  idealized  Frederika's  character,  but  in  the  whole 
account  of  the  Sesenheim  episode  given  us  a  romance,  an 
idyl,  as  Loeper  calls  it,  in  which  the  fact  is  proven  that 
the  outlines  are  truth  and  all  the  details  fiction.  In  one 
of  the  explanations  which  Goethe  has  given  of  the  mean- 
ing of  "  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit,"  he  says :  "  There  is 
no  event  related  in  my  autobiography  which  was  not  a 
real  experience,  but  nothing  as  I  really  experienced  it." 
Goethe  thus  stipulates  beforehand  for  the  most  unlimited 
freedom  in  the  handling  of  his  facts. 

Some  minor  matters  should  here  be  mentioned.  It 
seems  quite  possible  that  the  Socratic  shoemaker  with 
whom  Goethe  took  up  his  abode  on  his  clandestine  trip 
to  Dresden  was  but  a  mythical  person ;  and  the  same 
may  be  true  with  regard  to  his  young  friend  in  Frank- 
fort, whom  he  called  Pylades,  and  possibly  also  as  regards 
the  two  daughters  of  the  dancing-master.  But  these  are 
only  suppositions.  Concerning  Sesenheim  we  may  say 
with  safety  this  much,  that  the  affair  never  could  have 
ended  as  Goethe  represents.  There  is  proof  also  that  he 
did  not  become  acquainted  with  the  parson's  family  in 
the  manner  described ;  that  their  circumstances  were  not 
exactly  as  pictured ;  and,  probably,  the  farewell  itself 
was  very  different. 


TRUTH   AND   FICTION   ABOUT   FREDERIKA.        69 

I  have  given  you  a  somewhat  detailed  account  of 
Goethe's  first  appearance  at  Sesenheim.  We  have  seen 
what  a  part  Goldsmith's  romance  played  in  it,  —  how 
Goethe  recognizes  in  the  Sesenheim  family  the  principal 
characters  in  the  "  Vicar  of  Wakefield ; "  indeed,  he  even 
introduces  the  names.  Two  sisters  only,  according  to 
Goethe's  story,  belong  to  the  Brion  family,  —  the  elder 
Salomea,  whom  he  calls  Olivia,  and  the  younger  Riek- 
chen.  But  there  were  four, — one  older,  already  married; 
and  another  fifteen  years  of  age,  and  still  at  home.  The 
brother,  by  Goethe  called  Moses,  was  named  Christian. 
All  this  amounts  to  very  little.  Loeper  proves  that 
Goethe's  first  visit  to  the  village  was  not  in  the  spring 
of  1771,  but  in  October,  1770,  when  Goethe  had  not  yet 
heard  of  the  "  Vicar  of  Wakefield."  Accepting  this,  the 
fundamental  facts  given  about  the  first  visit  are  de- 
stroyed. 

If  this  be  really  so,  we  are  justified  in  going  further. 
In  Goethe's  narrative,  we  find  the  events  in  Sesenheim 
from  first  to  last  placed  in  ideal  relations, — one  coinciding 
exactly  with  another,  so  that  the  conclusion  follows  as  a 
tragic  necessity.  In  regard  to  the  farewell,  Goethe  con- 
fesses that  he  did  not  remember  the  last  days  very  dis- 
tinctly, and  that  in  this  part  of  the  narrative  he  made  no 
attempt  to  be  accurate.  Therefore,  I  believe  we  know 
how  to  interpret  Goethe's  remark,  "  I  spoke  of  deeds  and 
feelings  which  might  have  been,"  —  which  means  that  of 
the  details  he  no  longer  had  any  knowledge,  but  they 
might  have  been  as  he  related.  Loeper  has  shown  un- 
common care  in  collecting  and  arranging  the  notes  in 
"  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit,"  which  may  be  considered 
authentic  regarding  the  Sesenheim  affair.  At  the  first 
glance  they  appear  to  afford  a  significant  picture  to  place 
by  the  side  of  Goethe's  description.  But,  more  carefully 


70  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

studied,  they  give  us  only  color ;  often  in  the  most  deli- 
cate shades,  but  no  outlines.  What  is  needed  in  outline 
is  found  in  Goethe's  fiction  alone.  It  may  possibly  hap- 
pen that  some  one  who  could  boast  an  acquaintance  with 
Frederika  or  her  family  has  left  memorials  containing 
confidential  communications  received  directly  from  them, 
which  one  will  yet  be  allowed  to  read.  We  have  learned 
quite  lately  from  Goethe's  diaries,  published  by  Keil,  that 
he  received  a  letter  from  Frederika  while  in  Weimar  ;  as 
we  also  find,  by  a  letter  to  Salzmann,  that  he  sent  her 
from  Frankfort  his  newly  published  works.  But  what 
kind  of  relation  continued  to  exist  between  them  will 
only  become  clear  when  those  inform  us  who  knew 
exactly  how  things  were.  Until  then,  of  the  actual  ex- 
perience in  Sesenheim  we  know  only  this :  that  Goethe 
met  an  honest  and  lovable  family,  to  whom  he  attached 
himself  as  if  forever,  whom  he  through  his  presence 
brought  into  embarrassment,  and  whom  he  finally  deserted 
in  a  manner  which  even  he  himself  could  not  forgive. 

Yet  Goethe's  own  account  really  loses  nothing  in  value 
because  we  are  obliged  to  regard  it  as  a  mingling  of  only 
dim  remembrance  with  the  most  vivid  poetic  fancy.  It 
adds  to  Goethe's  immortal  poems  one  of  the  finest.  The 
suggestion  that  the  actual  Riekchen  Brion  was  another 
than  the  Frederika  who  is  so  touchingly  represented  in 
"  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit,"  injures  her  memory  as  little 
as  Charlotte  Buff's  has  been  injured  by  the  certainty  that 
Werther's  experience  in  no  wise  corresponded  to  what  in 
truth  took  place  between  Goethe  and  Charlotte  in  her 
father's  house  at  Wetzlar.  In  spite  of  this,  Goethe  has 
given  to  both  maidens  a  share  in  his  immortality. 

Frederika  remained  unmarried.  Goethe  saw  her  again 
in  1779.  The  story  in  "  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit "  closes 
with  the  account  of  how,  as  he  rode  away  from  Sesen- 


HIS    LAST   VISIT    TO   FREDERIKA.  71 

heim  after  the  farewell,  he  saw  his  own  figure,  dressed 
in  gray  clothes  trimmed  with  gold,  suddenly  coming 
towards  him  on  a  horse.  It  was  a  fantasy  which  he 
interpreted  as  meaning  that  he  should  return  to  Sesen- 
heim ;  and  so  it  happened.  Of  his  visit  in  1779  we 
possess  only  the  letter  to  Frau  von  Stein,  with  a  descrip- 
tion of  Alsace  scenery,  —  one  of  the  loveliest  Goethe  ever 
wrote,  and  which  shall  serve  as  fitting  epilogue  to  this 
idyl :  "  A  rarely  beautiful  day  ;  a  charming  country,  all 
still  green,  only  here  and  there  a  yellow  leaf  on  beech  or 
oak  ;  the  willows  yet  in  their  silver  beauty  ;  a  mild,  grate- 
ful breath  over  the  whole  land ;  grapes  with  every  step, 
and  every  day  better ;  each  peasant's  house  vine-clad 
even  to  the  roof ;  each  door-way  a  full,  rich  cluster- 
ing arbor  ;  the  heavenly  air,  soft,  moist,  and  warm.  Man 
becomes,  like  the  grape,  ripe  and  sweet  at  heart.  Would 
to  God  we  dwelt  here  together !  —  we  should  not  so  quickly 
freeze  in  winter  or  dry  up  in  summer.  The  Rhine  and 
the  clear  mountains  near;  the  changing  woods,  meadows, 
and  garden-like  fields  bespeak  refreshment  to  men,  and 
fill  me  with  a  delight  I  have  long  missed." 

So  he  writes  at  mid-day,  September  25.  In  the  evening 
he  repairs  to  Sesenheim,  of  which,  three  days  later,  he  gives 
the  following  account :  "  25th  Sept.  ;  toward  evening.  — 
I  turned  aside  from  the  broad  road  to  go  to  Sesenheim, 
while  the  others  straightway  continued  their  journey. 
I  found  the  family  together  just  as  I  had  left  them  eight 
years  before,  and  was  received  in  the  most  cordial  way. 
As  I  am  now  as  serene  as  the  air  I  breathe,  the  atmos- 
phere of  these  good  and  unpretending  people  was  most 
grateful.  The  second  daughter  of  the  house  had  formerly 
loved  me  much  more  generously  than  I  deserved,  and 
more  than  others  on  whom  I  have  lavished  greater  passion 
and  loyalty.  I  was  forced  to  leave  her  at  a  moment  when 


72  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

it  almost  cost  her  her  life ;  but  she  treated  me  with  con- 
sideration, spoke  lightly  of  the  remains  of  the  illness  she 
had  at  that  time,  and  from  the  first  moment  when  I  met 
her  unexpectedly  at  the  door  conducted  herself  in  the 
most  lovely  manner,  and  showered  upon  me  such  tokens 
of  hearty  friendship  that  I  felt  quite  at  ease.  I  must  do 
her  the  justice  to  say  that  she  did  not  attempt,  by  the 
slightest  allusion,  to  awaken  in  my  soul  the  old  feeling. 
She  took  me  into  each  arbor,  and  in  each  I  must  sit,  and 
all  was  pleasing.  We  had  the  most  beautiful  full  moon. 
I  inquired  about  everything.  A  neighbor  who  had  for- 
merly helped  us  to  make  some  improvements  was  called 
in,  who  told  me  he  had  asked  for  me  only  eight  days 
before.  And  the  barber  also  must  come.  I  found  old 
songs  I  had  composed,  a  carriage  I  had  painted ;  we  re- 
called many  frolics  of  that  time,  and  I  found  my  memory 
as  keen  about  them  as  if  I  had  only  been  gone  half  a  year. 
The  old  people  were  true-hearted ;  they  found  I  had 
grown  younger.  I  remained  overnight,  and  left  the  next 
morning  at  sunrise.  They  bade  me  adieu  with  friendly 
faces.  And  I  may  now  once  more  think  with  pleasure  of 
this  little  nook  in  the  world,  and  live  in  a  feeling  of  peace 
with  the  spirits  of  these  reconciled  ones." 

This  letter  explains  something  that  is  not  fully  ex- 
plained in  "  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit,"  —  Goethe's  pro- 
longed despair  after  the  parting  and  his  inward  conflicts. 
He  wandered  about  lonely,  stung  by  remorse,  and  could 
find  no  rest.  Nevertheless,  Frederika  had  forgiven  him, 
and  what  had  happened  that  should  awaken  in  Goethe 
years  after  such  painful  thoughts  ?  From  a  letter  which 
Goethe  wrote  to  Salzmann  at  Sesenheim  we  learn  what 
Frederika's  pale  cheeks  meant,  which  he  said  were  over- 
spread with  such  a  lovely  rose  color  when  she  recognized 
him  in  the  guise  of  the  landlord's  son  of  Drusenheim. 


PKOFICIENCY   IN   LEGAL    STUDIES.  73 

The  young  girl  was  ailing;  she  was  consumptive. 
Goethe's  leaving  her  brought  on  an  attack  which  endan- 
gered her  life. 

It  is  believed  that  Gretchen  in  "Faust"  is  to  be  traced 
back  to  Frederika ;  but  she  bears  a  closer  analogy  to 
Marie  Beaumarchais  in  "  Clavigo."  All  Goethe's  re- 
proaches, all  that  he  must  say'  to  himself  in  regard  to 
Frederika,  is  said  by  Clavigo  ;  while  the  heroic  gentleness 
of  Marie  and  her  frail  human  form  correspond  with  what 
Goethe  writes  to  Frau  von  Stein  of  Frederika  in  the  year 
1779.  By  recognizing  Marie  Beaumarchais  as  a  picture 
of  Frederika,  we  see  her  as  it  were  through  another  per- 
spective, which  enhances  greatly  the  idea  given  of  her  in 
"  Dichtungund  Wahrheit."  In  reality,  the  catastrophe  of 
the  idyl  almost  took  a  tragic  turn,  and  we  divine  in  the 
real  Frederika  an  admirable  character. 

And  so,  as  she  in  truth  lived  and  acted,  she  was  no 
unworthy  sister  of  the  ideal  Frederika  in  "  Dichtung  und 
Wahrheit." 

In  the  midst  of  these  excitements  Goethe's  prepara- 
tions for  taking  his  degree  went  on.  This  must  be  ob- 
tained, and  then  he  would  directly  begin  the  practice  of 
law  in  Frankfort.  It  was  not  difficult  for  Goethe  to 
master  the  necessary  knowledge.  His  father  had  early 
drilled  him  in  law  studies.  Goethe  was  good  authority 
in  "  Corpus  Juris."  To  this  fundamental  training  he  was 
indebted  for  the  knowledge  which  enabled  him  so  soon  to 
give  up  the  persistent  taking  of  notes,  which  he  began  at 
Leipsic.  It  tired  him  to  write  down  what  he  already 
knew. 

At  this  point  Goethe  takes  the  opportunity  to  speak 
of  the  bad  results  which  follow,  when  young  men  have 
too  much  professional  knowledge  before  entering  the 


74  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

University.  He  had  chances  enough  during  his  long  life 
to  acquire  from  experience  trustworthy  opinions  on  this 
subject. 

In  Strasburg  he  submitted  himself  for  the  study  of 
jurisprudence  to  the  direction  of  Salzmann,  and  pursued 
it  with  as  much  ardor  as  was  necessary  to  enable  him  to 
graduate  witli  honors.  In  his  leisure  hours  he  stud- 
ied everything  possible.  Medicine  attracted  him  most. 
Schb'll  has  printed  Goethe's  notes  on  the  books  he  read 
at  this  time,  as  well  as  his  abstracts  from  them.  We  see 
from  this  how  Goethe's  early  habits  made  it  possible  for 
him  every  day  to  read  through  something  like  an  octavo 
volume,  as  he  when  old  boasted  to  Chancellor  Miiller  he 
had  done.  He  desired  to  possess  knowledge  on  all  sub- 
jects, and  gathered  into  his  mental  treasury  all  that  it 
was  possible  to  acquire.  Goethe  had,  also,  the  genuine 
impulse  of  learned  men  to  wish  to  diffuse  his  views.  If 
he  had  had  some  taste  for  a  University  life,  and  had 
the  power  been  his  to  concentrate  himself  on  a  specialty, 
he  would  scarcely  have  escaped  the  destiny  of  becoming 
a  Professor.  But  he  was  more  fitted  for  the  position  of 
an  author,  who  from  his  lonely  post  addresses  the  great 
public,  and  who  is  not  accountable  to  any  one  for  any- 
thing he  may  say. 

On  the  6th  of  August,  1771,  Goethe  received  his  de- 
gree of  Licentiate,  but  not  of  Doctor,  although  from  that 
time  he  bore  the  title.  We  still  have  his  thesis,  ex  offl- 
cina  Henrici  Heitzii.  This,  although  composed  in  good 
Latin,  which  it  was  easy  for  him  both  to  speak  and  write, 
was  never  printed.  His  father  had  demanded  a  literary 
work  :  the  young  Doctor  should  enter  the  ranks  with  a 
respectable  volume.  The  old  gentleman  had  approved  of 
the  theme  and  its  treatment ;  but  it  had  not  satisfied  the 
Faculty.  Goethe's  treatise  asserted  that  it  was  the  duty 


HE   WRITES    A   LEGAL    TREATISE.  75 

of  the  lawgiver  to  prescribe  a  certain  cultus,  which  the 
clergy  and  the  laity  should  be  bound  to  sustain.  To  this, 
indeed,  Herder  and  Rousseau  had  already  given  their 
sanction.  We  see  how  ideas  even  at  that  time  had  spread 
in  the  direction  which,  twenty  years  later,  produced  such 
mad  results.  The  French  republic  was  not  merely 
destructive,  like  the  Commune  in  our  day :  it  was  con- 
structive. If  it  abolished  the  Catholic  religion,  it  was 
not  because  the  people  in  general  were  to  be  exempted 
from  the  trouble  of  maintaining  any  kind  of  worship. 
French  legislation  introduced  the  worship  of  Reason,  for 
which  sacrificial  fires  were  kindled  on  the  public  altars. 
But  all  this  bears  to-day  too  much  the  appearance  of 
mere  eccentricity.  We  know  at  present  far  too  little  of 
the  positively  romantic  experiments  of  this  first  French 
republic.  They  attempted  even  a  costume  appropriate  to 
the  new  age.  It  was  Rousseau  who,  in  the  conclusion  of 
his  "  £mile,"  first  gave  an  external  form  to  this  religion 
of  the  future.  On  blessed  islands,  purified  and  regenerated 
human  beings  were  to  find  themselves  united  in  Greek 
temples  where  the  Supreme  Being  is  worshipped.  The 
Greek  at  that -time  served  as  the  type  of  the  purely 
human. 

How  far  Goethe  in  his  treatise  presented  his  own  ideas, 
and  how  far  he  sympathized  with  those  of  Rousseau,  we 
do  not  know.  Goethe  himself  has  tol'd  us  that  Rousseau 
asserts  the  establishment  of  all  religions  to  be  the  fruit 
of  legislative  enactments,  and  cites  the  origin  of  Prot- 
estantism as  the  strongest  evidence  of  this.  That  the 
Dean  did  not  wish  this  treatise  published  under  the  aus- 
pices of  the  University,  we  believe  ;  since  it  contains 
expressions  contrary  to  the  fundamental  teachings  of 
Christianity.  Perhaps  we  shall,  at  some  future  time, 
find  this  manuscript  among  his  papers. 


76  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF   GOETHE. 

His  graduating  day  passed  off  happily.  The  usual 
feast  was  given,  and  Strasburg  was  done  with. 

On  the  28th  of  August,  1771,  he  presented  "Doctor" 
Goethe's  petition  begging  admission  to  the  bar.  Kriegk 
in  his  "  Deutschen  Culturbildern  "  gives  the  address  : J 
"  Wohl  und  hochedelgeborene  vest  und  hochgelehrte, 
hoch  und  wohl  fiirsichtige  inbesonders  hochgebietende 
und  hochgeehrteste  Herren  Gerichtsschultheiss  und 
Schoffen.  Ew.  Wohl  und  Edelgeborene,  Gestreng  und 
Herrlichkeit,  habe  ich  die  Ehre,  etc." 

Three  days  later  followed  his  promotion  to  the  bar. 

1  "  Well,  high  and  nobly  born,  vastly-learned  and  masterly,  high  and 
mighty  guardians,  and  especially  grand  commanders,  and  highly-honored 
Lord  Mayor,  Gentlemen  of  the  Bar  and  Sheriffs  !  Your  high  and  nobly 
born  Worships  and  Magnificences,  I  have  the  honor,  &c." 


PRACTISING  LAW.  77 


LECTURE  V. 

PRACTISING     LAW. —  HIS     PARENTS.  —  MERCK.  —  "  GOTZ    VON 
BERLICHINGEN." 

"\  T  7HEN  Goethe  had  been  admitted  a  member  of  the 
*  *  bar  and  enrolled  a  Frankfort  citizen,  his  father 
submitted  willingly  to  the  coming  and  going  of  his  liter- 
ary associates.  Tins  gave  the  whole  family  the  benefit  of 
the  friendship  of  many  distinguished  men  ;  and  as  the  old 
man  saw  with  what  ease,  in  the  midst  of  all  disturbances, 
the  young  Doctor  exercised  his  juridical  knowledge,  his 
satisfaction  mounted  to  admiration.  He  is  reported  to 
have  said  :  "Asa  jurist,  I  should  have  envied  my  son  if 
I  had  not  been  his  father." 

"NVhat  Goethe  said  in  regard  to  his  legal  practice  has 
been  fully  made  known  to  us  of  late  by  Kriegk,  who  has 
revised  existing  documents  and  brought  a  series  of  his 
legal  opinions  to  light.  The  stand-point  Goethe  takes 
shows  how  entirely  his  nature  at  this  time  was  cast  in  a 
certain  mould.  He  works  as  an  advocate  with  energy 
and  passion. 

The  result  of  the  Revolution  was  felt  in  the  adminis- 
tration of  public  justice  as  in  other  departments  of 
mental  labor.  Instead  of  the  pedantic  and  scholarly 
treatment  which  had  hitherto  prevailed,  the  purely  human 
point  of  view  became  the  standard.  Goethe  said  he  had 
taken  the  plaidoyers  among  the  French  lawyers  as  his 


78  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

models,  but  he  seems  to  have  far  outrun  his  exemplars. 
In  his  first  lawsuit,  the  counsel  for  the  opposite  party 
became  so  excited  that  the  legal  strife  degenerated  into  a 
personal  affair.  Something  bordering  on  sheer  insult 
was  exchanged,  until  at  last  both  advocates  received  a 
reproof  from  the  Court.  Theiss,  the  attorney,  afterward 
claimed  that  he  was  wrought  into  an  unusual  passion  by 
Goethe's  rejoinders  ;  and  we  can  well  understand  this 
when  we  examine  the  documents  given  by  Kriegk. 
Goethe  won  the  suit ;  but  in  later  cases  he  identified 
himself  less  with  the  party  he  had  to  defend. 

Seldom,  indeed,  has  a  young  jurist  begun  with  such 
glorious  prospects.  His  father  studied  the  briefs  as 
private  referee,  and  prepared  them  for  his  son,  who 
analyzed  them  with  a  facility  which  excited  his  father's 
admiration.  But  Goethe  evidently  began  at  that  time  to 
practise  law  because  he  would  fain  content  the  old  gentle- 
man until  he  had  made  up  his  own  mind  where  he  could 
best  apply  his  talents.  He  has  been  censured  for  the 
manner  in  which  he  criticises  his  father  in  "  Dichtung 
und  Wahrheit."  But  Goethe,  in  recapitulating  the  events 
of  his  life  to  give  them  to  the  world  as  a  wrork  of  art, 
considered  only  how  best  to  exhibit  in  the  most  favor- 
able light  the  various  people  who  had  influenced  him  in 
reference  to  this  purpose.  He  had  discovered  that  when 
it  is  intended  to  present  a  man  as  an  historical  fact,  only 
very  little  concerning  him  is  worthy  of  mention.  A  man 
may  possess  the  most  excellent  qualities,  and  neverthe- 
less fail  to  create  from  their  combination  the  harmony 
which  shall  stamp  itself  on  posterity  as  his  character- 
istic feature. 

On  the  contrary,  a  man,  through  deeds  which  neither 
increase  the  honor  due  to  him  nor  require  any  special 
gifts  for  their  performance,  may  yet  become  a  power  by 


CHARACTERISTICS    OF   HIS    FATHER.  79 

means  of  a  certain  life  which  inheres  in  the  deeds  them- 
selves. He  must  be  satisfied  to  be  known  by  this  one 
manifestation  of  his  ability,  even  while,  perhaps,  deeds 
proving  nobler  tendencies  are  lost  in  oblivion.  Goethe's 
sketch  of  his  father  was  drawn  from  his  experiences  and 
the  observation  of  his  own  nature  in  riper  years.  In  his 
earlier  life,  he  had  once  in  a  letter  to  the  "  Fahlmer,"  to 
whom  he  could  speak  openly  of  his  parents,  written  in 
reference  to  his  father :  "  Am  I  then  destined  by  fate  to 
become  so  narrow-minded  ?  "  And  later  he  must  have 
discovered  in  himself  many  of  the  pedantic  traits  of  his 
father.  The  habit  of  recording  everything  descended  to 
him  from  this  side,  as  well  as  the  collecting  and  preserv- 
ing of  trifles.  His  father  forced  him  to  finish  what  he 
had  begun,  less  out  of  interest  in  the  subject  than  from  a 
love  of  order.  He  pasted  up  his  unfinished  drawings, 
and  put  a  border  round  them.  We  shall  see  how  this 
predilection  for  outward  order,  which  was  inherited  by 
Goethe,  went  so  far  as  to  take  a  peculiar  literary  form. 
The  hoarding  up,  to  which  we  are  indebted  for  the  bulky 
romance  which  "Dichtung  und  Wahrheit"  finally  be- 
came, must  be  attributed  to  this  pedantry  ;  and,  perhaps, 
even  the  disconnected  form  of  "Faust"  would  admit  of 
the  same  explanation. 

Goethe's  father  had  no  spiritual  elements  in  him  by 
which  his  weak  points  could  be  transformed  into  strong 
ones.  He  worried  himself  more  and  more  about  the  ex- 
ternals of  life.  He  was  in  all  that  concerned  the  spend- 
ing of  money  precise  and  captious.  He  even  compelled 
his  son  at  last  to  give  up  all  free  intercourse  with  him, 
and  to  prepare  carefully  beforehand  what  he  wished  to  say 
to  him,  that  he  might  not  be  hindered  by  opposition.  If 
anything  was  desired  of  the  old  man,  it  had  to  be  asked 
for  in  a  carefully  composed  letter.  In  the  little  verse  in 


80  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

which  Goethe  explains  his  nature  as  an  inheritance  from 
father  and  mother,  he  attributes  to  his  father  his  stature 
and  his  methodical  habits.  In  Lavater's  "  Physiognomy  " 
there  is  a  portrait  of  his  father  which  Goethe  considered 
tolerable. 

To  his  mother  he  ascribes  his  buoyant  nature  and  his 
love  of  story-telling.  And,  indeed,  this  was  just  what 
distinguished  the  "  Frau  Rath."  The  mother  had  in  her 
the  material  to  make  an  historical  personage.  Goethe's 
father  can  be  set  aside :  we  do  not  need  him  to  un- 
derstand Goethe.  But  his  mother  is  inseparable  from 
him :  she  forms  a  part  of  his  being.  She  understood 
him  from  the  beginning:  she  divined  him.  All  that 
Goethe  gloriously  fulfilled  corresponded  but  to  a  part 
of  the  still  greater  expectations  which  this  woman 
cherished. 

But  who  is  so  truly  commissioned,  so  capable  of  seeing 
the  beauty  and  the  promise  of  another,  as  a  mother  in 
judging  her  son  ?  The  most  miserable  and  cast-away 
man  was  once  found  beautiful  by  one  pair  of  eyes.  But 
what  a  discovery,  what  a  royal  future,  when  superiority 
really  exists !  And  here  we  must  say  that  Goethe's 
mother  had  received  peculiar  gifts  for  her  mission.  She 
had  a  vein  of  genius  in  her  nature.  An  indestructible 
vitality  stood  at  her  command,  and  her  every  shade  of 
thought  had  a  deeply-marked  originality  which  only  in- 
creased with  years. 

She  had,  as  we  say,  been  given  in  marriage  to  Goethe's 
father ;  and  took  her  place  as  companion  and  housewife 
to  a  man  whose  occupations  and  individuality  were  alike 
indifferent  to  her.  We  only  see  her  becoming  happy, 
and  more  and  more  roused,  as  she  realizes  what  a  giant 
she  has  brought  into  the  world  in  her  son.  She  under- 
stands Goethe's  nature  fully  ;  most  of  all  in  its  inconsist- 


CHARACTERISTICS    OF   HIS    MOTHER.  81 

encies,  because  she  is  a  woman.  She  defends  him.  She 
mediates  between  him  and  his  father.  His  successes, 
which  never  surprise  her,  fill  her  with  indescribable  pride. 
When  Goethe  finally  left  for  Weimar,  still  dependent  pe- 
cuniarily upon  his  father,  his  mother  remained  behind  as 
commander  of  a  place  which  must  be  held.  There  she 
was  enthroned  in  state  as  plenipotentiary,  and  drew  her 
percentage  of  the  honors  which  fell  to  the  great  Goethe. 
She  later  wrote  to  him  in  Rome  that  his  Frankfort 
friends  said  :  "  We  were,  all  of  us,  nothing  but  his  lack- 
eys, you  know  !" —  but  they  should  all  have  something 
good  to  eat  at  her  table  when  Goethe  returned.  For  his 
sake  she  kept  open  house  for  all  his  friends  as  they  passed 
through  Frankfort,  and  they  all  called  upon  her  as  a  mat- 
ter of  course.  But  especially  did  she  expand  when  his 
father  at  last  died.  As  early  as  1779  Goethe,  in  pass- 
ing through  Frankfort,  found  his  father  more  quiet,  while 
his  mother  was  as  vigorous  as  ever.  In  1782,  ten  years 
after  the  time  of  which  we  have  been  speaking,  Merck 
writes  to  a  friend :  "  Goethe's  father  is  now  out  of  the 
way,  and  his  mother  at  last  has  a  chance  to  breathe !  " 
And  the  Frau  Rath  did  not  fail  to  take  advantage  of  it. 
Mistress  of  her  property  and  her  time,  a  new  era  began 
for  her. 

Her  constitution  was  like  iron.  She  did  what  she  had 
to  do  at  once  in  a  fresh,  ready  way,  and  swallowed  the 
devil  without  stopping  to  look  at  him.  She  sells  the 
house  with  the  consent  of  her  son,  and  moves  into  a  new 
one.  Her  first  stipulation  on  hiring  was,  "  No  gossip  to 
be  repeated."  But  everything  new,  great,  and  world- 
stirring,  especially  all  of  literary  significance,  she  seizes 
with  eagerness.  These  things  were  to  her  a  delight.  She 
judges  all  with  cleverness  and  ndivett.  She  was  large 
and  stately,  and  wore  imposing  head-dresses;  and  she  had 

6 


82  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

always  a  circle  of  young  girls  about  her,  who  followed  her 
with  enthusiastic  love.  In  the  theatre  she  sat  in  her 
own  box,  and  applauded  as  if  she  had  a  special  com- 
mission from  Goethe.  From  there  she  presented  her 
little  grandchildren  to  the  public.  She  has  been  described 
most  beautifully  and  truly,  quite  in  the  spirit  of  "  Dich- 
tung  und  Wahrheit,"  by  Bettina.  There  are  many  let- 
ters from  her,  —  natural,  graphic,  true  grandmother's 
letters,  with  no  dead  word  in  them. 

But  more  important  than  father  and  mother,  Frankfort 
and  law-practice,  and  next  to  the  Strasburg  experience, 
was  the  acquaintance  with  a  man  who  won  an  influence 
over  Goethe  such  as  Herder  only  had  possessed,  —  Merck 
in  Darmstadt. 

Goethe  had  been  led  to  Darmstadt  by  Herder.  In 
Darmstadt  lived  Caroline  Flachsland,  to  whom  Herder 
had  become  engaged  before  he  went  to  Strasburg.  "  The" 
Flachsland  or  "  Demoiselle,"  as  was  the  mode  of  address 
at  that  time,  moved  in  a  circle  which  came  much  in  con- 
tact with  the  Court,  and,  according  to  the  prevailing 
standard,  was  highly  educated.  It  was  a  species  of 
society  such  as  Jean  Paul  describes  in  his  romances,  and 
the  memory  of  which  is  lost  together  with  much  else 
which  preceded  the  French  Revolution.  A  predominance 
of  spiritual  life,  a  soaring  among  higher  contemplations, 
a  mental  energy,  and  withal  a  simplicity  and  positive 
faith  such  as  the  world  no  longer  possesses  characterized 
it.  In  this  circle  Goethe  soon  became  at  home,  and  here 
he  appeared  as  poet  only.  Here  he  found  Merck,  —  a 
young  man,  but  much  older  than  himself ;  and,  though 
not  long  established  in  Darmstadt,  with  an  official  posi- 
tion. About  his  past  life  little  was  known. 

I  have  spoken  of  Goethe  as  an  historian.  In  doing  so 
I  did  not  allude  to  the  fact  that  Goethe  once  intended  to 


HIS   ACQUAINTANCE   WITH   MERCK.  83 

write  the  history  of  Bernhard  of  "Weimar,  for  which  pur- 
pose he  studied  certain  archives ;  neither  do  I  refer  to 
the  fact  that  Goethe,  by  systematic  study,  had  acquired  a 
thorough  knowledge  of  general  history,  —  but  I  had  the 
following  in  mind.  Two  things  constitute  the  historian  : 
first,  that  the  events  of  the  past  should  stand  before  his 
mind  in  organic  coherence ;  and,  second,  that  he  should 
be  able  to  reproduce  artistically  what  he  has  thus  seen. 
Both  lay  in  Goethe's  power.  It  is  only  necessary  to  read 
the  introduction  to  his  theory  of  colors  to  be  convinced 
that  the  historical  method  stood  naturally  at  his  com- 
mand. We  need  only  analyze  the  language  and  com- 
position of  "  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit "  to  see  with  what 
conscious  skill  he  has  sustained  the  autobiographical 
form. 

In  "  Dichtung  und  "Wahrheit "  Goethe  has  given  a 
series  of  characterizations  so  completely  wrought  into 
the  text  that  they  attract  no  special  attention.  Consid- 
ered by  themselves  they  strike  us  as  masterpieces,  whose 
handling  is  so  evidently  on  Roman  models  that  if  they 
were  translated  into  Latin  by  some  one  familiar  with  the 
language  of  Tacitus,  they  would  seem  genuine  fragments 
stolen  from  this  old  Roman  author.  While  Johannes  von 
Miiller  attempted  a  superficial  imitation,  for  which  he 
was  ridiculed,  Goethe  has  wholly  concealed  the  study  of 
his  model.  Let  us  hear  what  he  says  of  Merck  :  — 

"  Of  his  early  education  I  know  but  little.  Gifted  with 
wit  and  intellect,  he  had  gained  for  himself  a  desirable 
amount  of  knowledge,  especially  of  new  literature,  and  was 
well  versed  in  men  and  things  of  all  times  and  countries. 
His  judgment  was  sound  and  acute.  He  was  valued  as  an 
energetic,  decided  business  man,  and  a  ready  reckoner.  He 
entered  all  social  circles  with  ease,  and  was  thought  a  very 
agreeable  companion  by  those  who  did  not  fear  his  biting 


84  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

satire.  He  was  tall  and  thin  in  person.  A  sharp,  protrud- 
ing nose  made  him  conspicuous,  while  his  light  blue,  or 
rather  gray,  eyes,  which  wandered  observantly  from  one 
object  to  another,  gave  to  his  whole  expression  something 
tigerish.  Lavater's 'Physiognomy 'has  preserved  a  profile  of 
him.  In  his  character  there  was  the  strangest  inconsistency. 
By  nature  an  honest,  noble,  trustworthy  man,  he  embittered 
himself  toward  the  world,  and  so  nourished  this  whimsical 
frame  of  mind  that  he  felt  irresistibly  tempted  purposely  to 
play  the  part  of  rogue,  —  yes,  even  of  knave.  Sensible,  quiet, 
and  good  at  one  moment,  in  the  next  it  would  occur  to  him, 
as  a  snail  sticks  out  its  horns,  to  do  a  thing  which  would 
trouble,  wound,  or  in  some  way  injure  another.  Yet,  as  we 
willingly  handle  a  dangerous,  thing  if  we  believe  ourselves 
safe,  so  I  felt  only  the  greater  inclination  to  live  with  him 
and  enjoy  his  good  qualities,  feeling  confident  he  would 
never  show  me  his  bad  side." 

Merck's  influence,  which  he  himself  says  was  the  great- 
est, is  the  more  striking  because  Goethe  expressly  denies 
Merck  all  positive  qualities.  In  his  old  age,  when  Merck 
had  long  passed  from  the  recollections  of  men,  Goethe 
refers  to  him  again.  In  the  earlier  conversations  with 
Eckermann,  and  later,  he  was  often  the  subject  of  their 
talk.  What  motive  could  Goethe  have  had  to  talk  to 
one  whose  mental  range  he  knew  so  well  about  this  odd 
character,  whom  Eckermann  could  never  have  under- 
stood ?  Surely,  Merck's  character  had  something  in  it 
which,  to  the  last,  gave  Goethe  food  for  thought,  and 
which  needed  to  be  unriddled.  He  once  said  to  Ecker- 
mann :  "  Such  a  man  coming  into  the  world  now,  in  1830, 
could  never  become  what  Merck  was."  What  really  puz- 
zled Goethe  was  that  Merck,  with  the  most  absolute 
knowledge  of  men  and  things,  and  with  marked  personal 
influence  over  others  as  well  as  himself,  was  in  the  face 
of  all  this,  if  measured  by  the  highest  standard,  compara- 


HIS    CHARACTERIZATION   OF   MERCK  85 

tively  a  nullity.  Goethe  asserts  this  with  real  severity. 
He  denies,  out  and  out,  that  Merck  was  noble.  We 
know  how  much  Goethe  meant  by  this  word.  To  the 
noble  he  opposed  the  base;  and  it  is  the  peculiar  dia- 
bolical quality  of  Mephistopheles  that  he  lacks  all  posi- 
tive, creative  power ;  but,  in  spite  of  this,  it  is  so  indis- 
pensable to  Faust  that,  to  produce  an  effect  or  even  to 
make  his  presence  felt,  he  must  first  put  himself  in  oppo- 
sition to  the  thought  of  another.  If  this  material  is 
wanting,  his  spirit  will  not  become  phosphorescent,  and 
it  is  as  though  he  did  not  exist. 

Goethe  once  wrote  in  his  diary  that  Merck  was  the 
only  person  who  wholly  appreciated  what  he  did;  but 
Goethe  nowhere  expressed  a  longing,  or  even  respect,  for 
Merck.  He  saw  all  his  hollowness  from  the  beginning ; 
but  he  could  not  dispense  with  him  as  the  incorruptible 
mirror  of  things  around  him.  Merck  is  like  an  excellent 
dictionary,  in  which  information  is  given  in  regard  to 
every  word  ;  while,  at  the  same  time,  the  all-comprising 
book  does  not  contain  a  single  thought  for  its  own  sake. 

It  has  been  asserted  that  Merck  did  not  receive  his  due 
at  the  hand  of  Goethe.  Loeper,  in  his  observations  on 
"  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit,"  and  Haym,  in  his  book  about 
Herder,  have  refuted  this  charge  on  good  grounds.  It 
cannot  be  denied  that  Goethe  speaks  with  harshness  of 
Merck ;  yet  he  acknowledges,  at  the  same  time,  the  obli- 
gations which  he  is  under  to  him.  If  Goethe's  sketch 
had  been  written  when  he  was  a  young  man,  and  in  the 
immediate  feeling  of  what  Merck  was  to  him  while  he 
was  with  him,  he  would  perhaps  have  written  more  in 
consonance  with  the  notice  in  his  diary.  But  when  he 
wrote  "  Dichtung  und  "Wahrheit"  the  artistic  considera- 
tions which  decided  the  point  of  view  from  which  to  char- 
acterize the  old  Rath  Goethe  influenced  him,  also,  in 


86  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

describing  Merck.  Goethe  saw  that  Merck,  after  the 
power  of  his  presence  and  the  circle  of  those  who  had 
known  and  felt  it  had  passed  away,  only  continued  to 
exist  in  the  qualities  with  which  he  invested  Mephis- 
topheles,  —  impersonal  criticism  and  the  incarnation  of 
a  spirit  whose  only  power  lay  in  denial.  If  Goethe  in 
painting  Merck  had  not  chosen  his  colors  with  this  idea 
in  mind,  we  should  have  had  a  portrait  much  lower  in 
tone,  but  with  blurred  outlines,  which  would  have  been 
lost  among  the  millions  of  good  and  honest-  people  who 
lived  in  Germany  then  as  now,  but  who  were  not  strong 
enough  to  leave  behind  the  faintest  trace  on  the  bronze 
tablets  of  history.  But  the  most  remarkable  feature  in 
Goethe's  sketch  of  Merck  is  that  while  we  have  a  picture 
of  a  thoroughly  eccentric  individual,  which  one  would 
believe  to  be  altogether  unique,  he  has  at  the  same  time 
delineated  a  common  type  of  man  to  which  many  a 
character  we  have  known  in  life  corresponds,  and  to 
whom  we  can  imagine  ourselves  bearing  exactly  the  same 
relations.  Since  Goethe  has  insured  Merck's  immor- 
tality, benevolent  people  may  find  excuses  for  his  faults, 
and  try  to  smooth  off  his  rough  angles  ;  but  to  obliter- 
ate what  Goethe  has  said  of  him  would  be  to  shroud  his 
memory  with  oblivion. 

Merck  was  the  centre  of  Darmstadt  society.  Such  a 
society  first  realizes  a  feeling  of  entire  union,  when  one 
among  them  on  whose  judgment  it  places  absolute  con- 
fidence plays  the  part  of  unmerciful  critic.  This  was 
Merck's  role  in  Darmstadt,  and  soon  also  in  Frankfort, 
where  he  became  acquainted  with  Goethe's  parents.  In 
Merck's  printing  establishment  in  Langen,  near  Darm- 
stadt, "  Gotz  "  was  afterwards  printed.  The  house  still 
stands,  and  has  lately  received  a  commemorative  tablet ; 
and  an  inscription  on  the  rock  of  the  Herrgottsberge,  in 


CAROLIKE   FLACHSLAND.  87 

Bessungen-wood,  marks  the  spot  where  Goethe  in  the 
circle  of  his  Darmstadt  friends  wrote,  in  1772,  the  "  Ded- 
ication of  the  Rocks  to  Psyche."  These  events  are 
described  in  "  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit "  with  evident  en- 
joyment, while  the  letters  of  the  Flachsland  add  a  yet  finer 
and  more  detailed  account  of  special  days.  She  describes 
how  they  read  and  walked  together  ;  shared  each  other's 
ecstasies ;  drank  punch  together,  —  a  kind  of  modern 
nectar,  which  was  offered  as  a  matter  of  course  whenever 
the  gods  of  this  earth  assembled ;  danced  together,  and,  it 
may  be,  kissed  each  other.  Caroline  Flachsland  was  not 
only  in  the  Darmstadt  days  an  important  personage  to 
Goethe,  but,  as  Herder's  wife,  through  a  long  life  was 
ever  near  him,  and  one  of  the  women  who  gave  him  the 
most  trouble.  The  mixture  of  rapturous  passion  with  the 
most  ordinary  calculating  practicality  which  formed  her 
character  produced,  taking  all  in  all,  rather  an  unpleasant 
result.  Nevertheless,  in  1772,  young,  energetic,  and  ele- 
vated by  the  consciousness  of  being  beloved  by  one  of  the 
first  men  of  Germany,  her  stormy  nature  was  rather  an 
advantage  to  her.  She  was  Goethe's  particular  friend, 
and  his  advocate  with  Herder.  She  introduced  Goethe 
in  Darmstadt,  where  soon,  owing  to  her  and  to  Merck,  he 
was  accepted  as  a  man  who,  different  from  and  superior 
to  others,  had  a  right  to  an  exceptional  position.  In 
Darmstadt  he  was  allowed  to  sentimentalize  over  the 
loss  of  Frederika.  He  tells  us  how  on  the  road  thither, 
which  he  traversed  on  foot,  striding  along  through  storm 
and  rain,  he  rehearsed  to  himself  the  poems  which  as 
spontaneous  creations  sprang  to  his  lips.  Thus  arose 
the  "  Wanderer's  Storm  Song,"  "  Wenn  du  nicht  verlas- 
sest  Genius."  Many  of  his  most  beautiful  verses  were 
written  at  this  time.  From  few  epochs,  on  the  contrary, 
has  so  little  of  his  correspondence  come  down  to  us. 


88  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

From  1771  to  1772  only  three  of  his  letters  have  been 
preserved  :  all  his  letters  to  Merck  at  this  time  have  been 
destroyed.  A  change  had  come  over  Goethe  ;  his  old 
correspondents  were  dropped,  and  no  new  ones  as  yet 
had  taken  their  place.  He  was  still  too  young  for 
Herder,  who  had  other  friends  to  whom  he  could  open 
his  heart.  Herder,  moreover,  had  to  cultivate  the  friend- 
ship of  people  who  could  help  him  to  a  professorship,  as 
he  was  not  happy  in  Biickeburg.  If  Caroline  Flachs- 
land  had  not  stood  between  Goethe  and  Herder,  they 
would  perhaps  have  shaken  each  other  off  forever.  Her- 
der seems  to  have  had  a  presentiment  of  what  was  later 
fulfilled,  that  the  weight  of  Goethe's  mind  would  some 
day  crush  him  to  the  earth.  Mockingly  he  calls  Goethe 
in  one  of  his  letters  "  loo  sparrowlike  ; "  and  then  again 
"  the  great  Goethe."  Such  jokes  were  not  made  of  empty 
air. 

But  Herder  at  a  distance  could  no  longer  judge  Goethe. 
When  they  had  separated,  Goethe  was  wanting  in  much 
which,  like  a  gift  from  heaven,  came  to  him  after  the 
conclusion  of  his  Strasburg  sojourn.  "Faust"  and 
"  Gotz  "  were  considered  contraband  in  Strasburg  :  his 
studies  were  there  the  principal  thing.  In  Frankfort 
also,  under  the  eye  of  his  father,  he  had  at  first  to  make 
a  show  of  pursuing  his  career  as  a  lawyer ;  yet  he  rose 
from  his  bed  and  retired  to  it  with  his  mind  full  of  liter- 
ary projects.  After  his  return  to  his  father's  house  his 
life  was  so  enlarged,  that  when  he  came  to  the  account  of 
this  period  in  "  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit  "  the  chronologi- 
cal thread  broke  on  which  the  events  had  previously 
been  strung.  Goethe,  whose  mind  now  begins  to  show 
immense  fertility,  and  who  is  daily  brought  into  contact 
with  the  most  superior  men  in  Germany,  and  who,  at  the 
same  time  reads  and  assimilates  everything  which  appears 


"GOTZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN."  89 

in  literature,  now  leaves  the  usual  path,  soars  into  the 
ether,  and,  as  it  were,  disappears  from  our  sight. 

But  who  could  ever  expect  to  describe  adequately  a 
man  of  such  gifts,  in  the  inspired  hour  of  early  manhood, 
—  a  moment  in  which  even  ordinary  men  are  apt  to  seem 
endowed  with  something  extraordinary  ?  If  all  young 
maidens  prove  to  be  what  they  seem  between  the  ages  of 
sixteen  and  eighteen,  and  all  the  young  men  what  they 
promise  between  twenty  and  twenty-five,  then  beauty  and 
intellect  and  genius  with  inexhaustible  vitality  would  not 
in  later  years  be  regarded  of  such  inestimable  value.  It  is 
fortunate  that  every  one  in  the  enjoyment  of  this  spring- 
time of  life  believes  it  to  be  enduring.  This  faith  in  the 
inexhaustible  power  of  youth,  in  a  degree  commensurate 
with  his  superiority,  is  an  essential  factor  in  picturing  to 
ourselves  Goethe's  extraordinary  appearance  in  the  years 
which  now  begin.  To  his  ever-increasing  power  there 
seemed  no  limit.  Herder  knew  well  that  there  may  be 
men  raised,  in  this  wonderful  manner,  above  the  rest  of 
mankind  ;  but,  as  a  critic,  he  could  not  make  up  his 
mind,  without  the  most  decisive  tests,  to  concede  to 
Goethe  the  right  to  step  forward  regally  as  a  favorite  of 
the  gods  !  But  now  the  proofs  were  given.  Goethe  wrote 
"  Gotz  von  Berlichingen."  The  manner  in  which  Herder 
received  this  work  helps  us  to  understand  what,  with 
reference  to  Goethe,  may  be  called  Herder's  conversion. 
"We  must  now  speak  of  "  Gotz." 

"  Gotz  von  Berlichingen  "  was  Goethe's  first  Frankfort 
work.  It  is  also  his  first  great  poem.  It  raised  him,  at 
one  stroke,  to  the  very  highest  rank  in  Germany.  With 
"  Gotz  "  he  hit  the  mark  in  the  centre,  and  there  was  no 
more  thought  of  competition.  Homage  was  paid  to  him 
who  had  taken  the  first  place,  and,  indeed,  before  his  name 
was  known ;  for  this  drama  was  first  published  anony- 


90        LIFE  AND  TIMES  OF  GOETHE. 

mously.  His  opponents  were  now  only  those  who  envied 
him,  —  those  who  either  wilfully  closed  their  eyes,  or  those 
who  were  too  old  to  be  moved  by  the  fresh  spirit  which 
animated  its  pages.  This  accounts  for  Frederick  the 
Great's  opinion  of  it.  Frederick  could  not  be  expected, 
in  his  old  age,  to  appreciate  Shakspeare  and  Goethe. 

In  order  to  understand  clearly  what  Goethe  accom- 
plished in  this  work,  we  must  go  back  a  few  hundred 
years  and  survey  cursorily  the  development  of  the  drama 
in  Europe.  Goethe's  "  Gb'tz "  was  the  first  successful 
attempt  to  present  to  the  German  people,  to  whom  fate 
seemed  to  deny  the  development  of  their  own  drama,  an 
historical  play,  —  although  it  was  no  acting-play,  but 
only  a  drama  to  be  read.  We  shall  see  in  how  far  the 
term  reading-drama  ("  Biicherdrama"),  which  is  now 
considered  reprehensible,  was  justified,  and  had  for  Ger- 
mans a  history. 

The  present  European  theatre  is  no  indigenous  creation 
of  modern  times  :  it  is  the  theatre  of  the  ancients,  which 
by  a  series  of  transformations  has  come  down  to  us 
through  the  ages.  The  same  continuity  and  legitimate 
succession  which  is  seen  in  poetry,  painting,  sculpture, 
law,  and  politics  is  to  be  traced  here.  The  Greek  drama, 
taken  up  by  the  Romans,  was  performed  both  in  its  own 
language  and  in  Latin  imitations,  and  passed  through  the 
various  stages  in  the  history  of  the  Empire,  —  first  flour- 
ishing, then  stagnant,  then  in  its  decline,  until  at  last  it 
only  vegetated.  But  tragedy  and  comedy  will  never  cease 
to  be  read  and  played  so  long  as  Greek  and  Latin  are 
studied.  In  the  sixth  century,  when  the  Goths  conquered 
Gaul,  the  Gaelic  Roman  Sidonius  Apollinaris,  who  was  a 
Christian  minister,  delighted  himself  and  his  friends  by 
reading  Menandcr ;  and  among  Goths,  Franks,  and  Van- 
dals hexameters  were  constructed  after  the  model  of  Virgil, 


ORIGIN  OF  THE  EUROPEAN  THEATRE.     91 

history  after  that  of  Suetonius,  and  the  art  of  conversation 
was  learned  from  Terence.  Einhardt's  history  of  Charles 
the  Great  is  made  up  chiefly  of  Suetonic  phrases.  The 
comedies  of  Terence  and  Plautus,  which  bear  the  stamp 
of  the  genuine  Greek  drama,  have  certainly  been  played 
in  Italy  in  all  centuries.  Through  the  darkest  years  in 
Italy,  —  cheerless  years,  although  every  spring  the  roses 
bloomed  and  every  autumn  the  wine  was  pressed  out,  — 
the  Roman  drama  was  preserved,  in  a  pitiable  condition  to 
be  sure,  but  living ;  so  that  at  the  time  when  classic  culture 
witli  fresh  impulse  again  sprung  up  (modestly  at  first, 
and  then  more  and  more  luxuriantly),  it  was  able  to  take 
its  part  in  the  universal  Renaissance.  In  the  fifteenth 
century  the  performance  of  classic  plays,  often  with  a  vast 
amount  of  scenic  display,  is  something  quite  customary  ; 
and  in  the  sixteenth  century,  the  time  of  Raphael  and  Ari- 
osto,  the  Italian  stage  —  with  tragedy,  comedy,  and  opera 
—  took  its  rise.  About  the  middle  of  this  century  Italian 
actors  were  recognized  as  a  special  class  ;  they  had  their 
own  literature,  and  began  to  visit  other  countries  in  or- 
ganized bands,  wherever  brilliant  courts  attracted  them. 

But  this  was  only  in  three  countries,  —  Spain,  France, 
and  England.  Germany  had  no  capital,  and  no  nobility 
educated  up  to  the  standard  of  other  nations.  This  is 
the  primary  cause  why  dramatic  art  was  not  developed  in 
Germany  as  elsewhere.  From  the  union  of  Italian  classic 
stage-practice  with  the  existing  elements  of  native  dra- 
matic art,  there  arose  in  each  of  these  three  countries  a 
national  stage,  having  its  own  distinguished  poets.  This 
is  the  soil  upon  which  in  Spain  Lope  da  Vega  and  Calde- 
ron,  and  in  England  Shakspeare,  arose  ;  while  Italy  and 
France  could  at  first  boast  no  important  names.  Cor- 
neille's  youthful  works  show  the  same  influences,  but  he 
soon  rose  into  -his  own  brilliant  style,  and  drew  MolieTe 


92  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

and  Racine  after  him.  Henceforth  the  supremacy  of  the 
French  in  the  drama,  as  well  as  in  the  sphere  of  politics, 
aesthetics,  and  scholarly  achievement,  was  decided.  Every- 
where the  French  were  imitated  ;  and,  about  1700,  the  su- 
premacy of  France  in  the  drama  was  so  fully  established 
throughout  the  whole  of  Europe,  that  learned  men,  as 
well  as  the  general  public,  believed  beyond  a  doubt  that 
the  French  drama  had  thrown  even  Greek  tragedy  into 
the  shade.  And  when,  added  to  all  this,  the  first  tragedy 
of  Voltaire  appeared,  which  in  the  united  judgment  of  all 
his  most  competent  contemporaries  surpassed  Corneille, 
Racine,  and  all  the  Greeks  put  together,  it  seemed  as  if 
such  a  height  had  been  reached  that  further  steps  on  this 
ladder  were  beyond  the  power  of  the  wildest  imagination. 
This  unanimity  of  opinion  that  the  highest  literary  merit 
had  now  been  attained  is  in  unison  with  those  other  symp- 
toms of  extreme  self-satisfaction  which  we  have  already 
spoken  of  as  the  characteristic  feature  of  the  first  half  of 
the  last  century.  But  now  came  the  change  here,  as  else- 
where. 

Voltaire,  instead  of  striving  to  sustain  the  convictions 
of  his  fellow-men  who  had  assigned  to  him  such  high 
rank,  became  himself  the  great  destroyer  of  the  very  con- 
victions upon  which  his  sovereignty  was  based.  Voltaire 
was  not  a  man  of  the  second  rank,  who  carefully  consid- 
ered only  that  which  would  conduce  to  his  personal  renown. 
He  stood  too  high  to  be  so  paltry.  He  would  above  all 
things  move  onward,  and  he  shook  the  old  machinery 
to  pieces  without  thinking  of  himself.  He  prepared  the 
people  for  that  change  of  opinion  in  Europe  which  soon 
gained  ground  in  all  departments  of  intellectual  activity. 
The  stage  was  too  important  a  factor  in  the  public  life  at 
that  time  not  to  be  affected  at  once  by  this  change.  Here, 
also,  a  return  to  Nature  was  necessary :  the  world  was 


THE  GERMAN  NATIONAL  DRAMA.       93 

tired  of  the  conventional  hero  raised  above  the  changes 
of  time  and  the  frailties  of  humanity,  and  longed  for 
distinct  national  and  historical  characters.  Voltaire, 
who  has  unjustly  been  called  the  disparager  of  Shak- 
speare,  —  whom  he  naturally  only  so  far  understood  as 
was  possible  in  his  day,  and  whom  he  criticised,  it  is 
true,  with  the  same  overweening  confidence  which  he 
had  shown  regarding  Corneille,  —  was  the  first  who  at- 
tempted to  fit  Shakspeare's  characters  into  the  frame  of 
standard  French  tragedy ;  and  he  initiated  the  change 
which  took  place  in  France  consequent  upon  the  knowl- 
edge of  the  English  stage  as  it  was  before  the  autoc- 
racy of  the  French.  For  though  in  England  the  so-called 
French  classic  tragedy  had  been  triumphant,  it  could  only 
be  called  a  succes  cTestime ;  and  the  old  English  theatre 
with  Shakspeare  was  never  really  supplanted.  The 
inherent  realism  of  the  English  people  would  not  allow 
their  own  drama,  the  natural  product  of  the  soil,  to 
perish.  They  admired  the  French  form,  but  enjoyed 
Shakspeare  none  the  less.  Voltaire  discovered,  with  as- 
tonishment, that  Shakspeare  had  made  of  Julius  Caesar 
almost  a  modern  political  character,  giving  to  him  traits 
entirely  beyond  the  pale  of  French  stage  practice.  In 
proportion  as  English  political  theories  gained  recognition, 
the  English  drama  also  began  to  be  imitated  in  Paris. 
Diderot,  following  the  English  model,  created  the  comtfdie 
larmoyante,  presenting  tragic  subjects  in  modern  costume 
and  in  prose  form. 

From  Diderot  Germany  now  received  her  first  incentive 
to  the  formation  of  a  national  stage.  The  "  weeping 
comedy"  just  suited  us, —  a  story  striking  anguish  to  the 
hearts  of  the  hearers,  but  ending  in  laughter.  In  France, 
after  a  tragedy  a  farce  was  played ;  but  the  German  pub- 
lic prefers  to  draw  this  comforting  sensation  from  the 


94        LIFE  AND  TIMES  OF  GOETHE. 

last  act  of  the  drama  itself.  We  know  what  Lessing 
owed  to  Diderot. 

The  history  of  the  German  stage  was  first  given  by 
Gervinus  in  his  work  on  German  literature.  I  have 
known  the  time  when  Gervinus  was  considered  among 
us  to  be  infallible  authority  in  aesthetics.  Now,  however, 
we  hear  him  abused,  and  see  the  great  man's  well-deserved 
renown  plucked  from  him  feather  by  feather,  as  if  his 
were  borrowed  plumes.  But  wherever  I  look  I  see  others 
decked  out  in  his  feathers.  What  Gervinus's  "  History  of 
German  Literature"  contains  about  our  stage  has  received 
additions  in  the  way  of  facts  from  many  sources ;  but 
hitherto  every  writer  has  been  indebted  to  Gervinus  for  the 
leading  points  of  view.  Gervinus  is  the  creator  of  our  liter- 
ary history.  Neither  this  nor  his  other  valuable  services 
to  Germany  can  ever  be  cast  into  the  shade,  either  by 
his  political  conduct  in  the  last  years  of  his  life,  or  by 
the  attacks  of  his  opponents  who  now  would  deprive  him 
of  almost  all  his  merits  as  a  writer.  We  owe  to  Gervinus 
the  first  scientific  analysis  of  Lessing.  This  analysis 
alone  comprises  almost  the  entire  history  of  the  growth 
of  our  national  stage  in  the  middle  of  the  last  century. 

Why  no  national  theatre  could  be  formed  in  Germany 
has  been  already  stated.  More  than  any  other  field  of 
art  the  stage  needs,  if  it  is  to  rise  to  a  higher  level,  a 
never-failing  audience*  representing  the  real  criticism  of 
the  people.  Only  where  the  theatre  is  controlled  by  and 
dependent  on  the  incessant  and  minute  observation  of 
the  educated  classes,  as  well  as  the  more  or  less  noisy 
applause  of  the  uneducated,  whose  important  share  in  the 
general  criticism  must  be  recognized,  can  real  growth  and 
the  best  results  be  anticipated.  This  is  especially  true  if 
the  actor  is  the  first  consideration  :  for  the  poet  another 
element  must  be  added,  which  is  only  furnished  by  great 


POLITICS    AND   THE   DKAMA.  95 

national  centres.  A  real  political  life  must  display  itself 
before  his  eyes  in  living  characters,  whose  activity  is 
watched  over  and  controlled  by  this  same  wide-spread 
public.  Where  else  should  he  seek  the  types  for  his 
dramatis  personce  ?  The  heroes  of  Corneille  are  those  of 
the  war  of  the  Fronde ;  those  of  Racine,  the  victorious 
princes  of  the  royal  house  in  the  first  intoxicating  cam- 
paigns of  Louis  XIY.  Moliere  found  the  models  for  his 
characters  among  the  nobility  of  Paris  and  Versailles, 
whose  brilliant  traits  and  many  foibles  were  conspicuous 
before  the  eyes  of  the  people  and  the  subject  of  general 
admiration  or  derision.  In  Madrid  also  the  Hapsburg 
dynasty  was  developing  a  monstrous  activity,  which, 
in  spite  of  its  secretiveness,  it  could  not  keep  secret ; 
its  favorites  and  generals  were  lifted  up  and  over- 
thrown, and  every  kind  of  human  fate  bartered  and 
sold.  In  London,  before  Shakspeare's  eyes,  it  was  the 
same.  Everywhere  it  was  a  question  of  life  and  death, 
for  the  highest  as  well  as  the  lowest ;  and  everywhere 
it  was  understood  that  the  interests  of  the  country  were 
involved  in  its  politics.  The  people  at  large  were  not 
mere  blind  spectators.  They  felt  it  all.  They  whispered 
to  each  other  what  might  not  be  said  aloud :  they  could 
not  prevent  the  outrages  of  which  they  were  witnesses. 
In  France,  people  disappeared ;  in  Spain,  they  were 
burned ;  in  England,  they  were  beheaded.  English  his- 
tory, with  its  formidable  apparatus  of  men  and  women, 
passed  in  a  medley  before  Shakspeare's  eyes.  If  he 
brought  the  tower  upon  the  stage,  every  spectator  knew 
what  great  lord  had  last  been  murdered  there.  The 
poet  of  that  time  had  only  to  open  his  eyes ;  and  as 
in  an  aquarium  the  glass  walls  give  us  an  opportunity 
to  observe  the  large  and  little  fishes  swimming  about 
together,  so  at  every  street  corner  the  poet  stumbled 


90  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

against  nobles  and  common  people  just  as  he  wanted 
them  for  his  plays. 

But  what  material  stood  at  the  command  of  the  Ger- 
man poet  ?  With  us  political  life  does  not  come  to  the 
surface.  Our  great  developments  go  on  within  the  heart 
and  brain.  We  gesticulate  little.  When  we  are  excited, 
the  hands  find  a  snug  place  in  the  pockets  ;  while  for  an 
Italian  a  dozen  arms  and  hands  would  not  be  enough. 
Our  fiercest  storms  often  rage  without  rippling  the  sur- 
face of  the  waters :  they  work  in  the  depths.  Our  na- 
ture and  our  life  are  wanting  in  every  thing  theatrical. 
Our  centres  of  mental  and  political  excitement,  so  far  as 
they  existed  at  the  time  of  which  we  have  been  speaking, 
never  put  all  classes  of  the  people  in  commotion.  There 
were  no  acting  masses.  That  was  no  genuine  national 
spirit,  no  real  political  life,  which  in  the  last  century 
showed  itself  in  the  court  intrigues  of  Vienna  or  Dres- 
den, even  though  all  Dresden  and  Vienna  talked  of  it  in 
the  streets.  The  real  decisions  were  veiled.  Our  poets 
had  no  opportunity  to  watch  important  revolutions  among 
the  people,  in  the  midst  of  which  the  seed-corn  of  his- 
tory was  shaken  out  and  ground  before  their  eyes,  and 
the  bread  kneaded  and  baked  on  which  high  and  low 
must  live.  They  were  obliged,  when  they  needed  heroes, 
to  bring  before  their  fancies  the  heroes  of  whom  they 
had  read ;  and  they  ended  by  reproducing  these  paper 
heroes. 

To  Lessing  only  had  it  been  granted  to  see  a  bit  of  the 
world.  He  had  experienced  the  camp  life  of  the  Seven 
Years'  War,  and  worked  for  his  daily  bread  as  an  author. 
He  had  a  hard  struggle ;  but  he  lived  through  it,  and  became 
eminent.  There  was  something  aristocratic  in  his  nature 
and  in  his  appearance  which  he  fully  sustained.  Lessing 
was  the  first  who,  having  obtained  a  knowledge  of  the 


LESSING  S    EFFORTS    TO    CREATE    A   DRAMA.      97 

French,  Spanish,  and  English  stage,  so  far  as  one  can 
gain  an  acquaintance  with  it  at  home,  had  added  to  such 
knowledge  all  the  experience  which  the  miserable  German 
stage  could  afford.  He  wrote  "  Minna  von  Barnhelm,"  a 
work  which  reaped  the  full  benefit  of  all  this  experience. 
It  was  the  first  truly  German  production  of  the  class 
which  could  be  called  a  drama.  Characters  were  here 
offered  to  the  actor  which  appealed  to  the  whole  heart. 

In  spite  of  this  success,  Lessing's  efforts  were  frus- 
trated. To  understand  this  we  have  only  to  read  "  Ham- 
burgische  Dramaturgic," —  a  programme  rich  in  promise  ; 
a  kindly,  painstaking  criticism  of  the  representations 
given  at  that  time ;  then  a  gradual  turning  aside  from 
the  subject ;  and  finally  mere  investigations  of  literary 
history,  these  ending  very  abruptly.  What  could  Ham- 
burg offer  to  a  mind  like  his  ?  Lessing  was  disgusted 
with  the  actors  and  the  public.  "  Emilia  Galotti,"  though 
prepared  for  the  stage,  was  accepted  only  as  a  "  read- 
ing-drama ;  "  and  "  Nathan  the  Wise  "  was  written  as 
such.  Lessing  foresaw  a  possible  representation  of  this 
play  in  the  distant  future ;  but  this  was  all  the  connec- 
tion it  had  with  the  stage  in  his  eyes.  With  these,  the 
condition  of  theatrical  art  in  Germany  had  been  tested. 
Lessing,  who  was  born  pre-eminently  fitted  for  such  a 
sphere,  separated  himself  most  openly  from  the  German 
stage,  and  wrote,  when  he  chose  the  dramatic  form  for 
the  last  time,  only  a  poem  for  which  he  needed  neither 
stage  nor  actor. 


98  LIFE   AJSTD    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 


LECTURE  VI. 

GOTZ   VON   BERLICHINGEN. 

'"THHE  portion  of  Goethe's  life  in  which  he  appears  as 
-^-  stage  enthusiast,  stage  poet,  actor  in  his  own  plays, 
critic,  and  theatrical  director  can  be  so  minutely  followed, 
that,  as  in  every  case  where  the  facts  are  before  us,  we 
can  give  an  account  of  it  in  a  few  words. 

It  was  from  French  actors  in  Frankfort  that  he  re- 
ceived his  first  theatrical  impressions.  This  forms  a 
delightful  chapter  in  "  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit."  At 
Leipsic  he  found  Gottsched  as  the  representative  of  the 
French  stage,  who  together  with  his  wife  translated  many 
of  its  productions.  The  position  Goethe  himself  took  in 
relation  to  all  this  is  best  shown  in  his  "  Mitschuldigen." 
His  translation  of  the  "  Menteur  "  of  Corneille  into  Alex- 
andrines was  at  that  time  just  as  natural  an  undertaking 
as  it  would  be  to-day  for  a  young  philologist  to  imitate 
Greek  hexameters,  choruses,  or  the  measures  of  Horace. 
In  Strasburg,  also,  he  found  nothing  so  attractive  as  the 
French  theatre,  and  became  acquainted  with  eminent  act- 
ors there.  Then  Shakspeare  rose  before  him  ;  while  at  the 
same  time  he  became  deeply  impressed  with  the  language 
of  the  old  German  stage.  But  all  this  did  not  awaken 
in  him  any  thought  of  writing  for  the  stage.  He  who 
in  writing  the  "  Mitschuldigen  "  had  taken  such  pains 
to  adapt  it  to  the  wants  of  the  stage  now  undertakes 


HIS    FIRST   ATTEMPT   AT   DRAMATIZING.         99 

"  Gotz,"  which  he  writes  without  plan  or  regard  to  the 
stage,  like  a  romance  in  dialogue.  Goethe  would  not 
write  for  that  stage  which  he  had  before  his  eyes.  He 
was  not  even  acquainted  with  Hamburg  or  Berlin  ;  but 
without  Lessing's  experience,  and  through  his  own  intu- 
itions, he  placed  himself  on  Lessing's  stand-point.  He 
felt  that  he  was  in  opposition  to  all  the  existing  tenden- 
cies. "  We  are  up  to  our  ears  in  Gottschedism,"  lie  says 
in  one  of  his  letters  while  "  Gotz  "  was  being  printed. 
We  translate  this  to-day  :  "  We  allow  ourselves  to  be  led 
astray  by  the  common  stage  routine,  and  are  guided  by 
the  wishes  of  the  actors,  who  want  only  grand  climaxes, 
opportunities  for  change  of  costume,  and  the  like."  He 
could  never  conceive  of  submitting  to  such  demands  in 
an  inspired  work.  It  was,  however,  no  deliberate  inten- 
tion with  Goethe  :  he  could  write  only  for  that  stage 
which  every  one  builds  in  his  imagination.  In  this  sense 
his  "  Gotz  "  was  accepted.  Goethe  was  so  fully  conscious 
of  having  used  the  dramatic  form  only  in  a  general  way, 
that  he  did  not  at  first  give  to  his  poem  even  the  title  of 
"  play,"  but  called  it  the  "  Tale  of  Gottfried  of  Berlich- 
ingen  with  the  Iron  Hand,  dramatized."  In  Goethe's 
"  Gotz  von  Berlichingen  "  four  stages  of  the  work  are 
to  be  considered.  The  original  conception  in  Strasburg, 
of  which  nothing  written  remains  ;  the  first  copy  in 
Frankfort,  which  as  a  manuscript  lay  unknown  until 
after  Goethe's  death,  when  it  was  printed  ;  thirdly,  the 
definite  form  of  the  drama  as  it  was  given  to  the  public 
in  1773  ;  and,  lastly,  the  attempt  to  arrange  it  for  the 
stage  in  Weimar.  An  edition  of  the  latter  is  still  extant, 
but  very  little  known.  In  Strasburg  only  the  ground- 
work of  the  poem  was  completed. 

Gottfried  von  Berlichingen's  autobiography,  which  ap- 
peared in  print  in  Nuremberg  in  1731,  had  fallen  into 


100  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

Goethe's  hands.  Nothing  could  have  suited  his  mood  of 
mind  better  at  that  time  than  this  unalloyed  product  of 
nature,  —  a  simple  story,  free  from  art  or  artifice,  which 
dropped  into  his  hands  like  ripe  fruit  from  the  tree ! 
Rousseau  himself  could  not  have  given  a  more  convincing 
proof  that  authorship  must  arise  spontaneously  from  the 
nature  of  the  thing.  Gotz  von  Berlichingen,  who  had 
known  nothing  but  the  roughest  military  work,  who  had 
beaten  about  in  the  midst  of  the  endless  feuds  of  his  day, 
his  only  knowledge  being  of  horses  and  weapons,  doomed 
at  last  to  involuntary  idleness,  sits  down  to  write  an 
account  of  his  life  from  his  childhood  up,  his  only  thought 
being  to  relieve  an  overburdened  heart.  Goethe  under- 
stood this ;  his  own  poems  had  grown  out  of  the  same 
desire :  he,  too,  had  sat  at  his  writing-table,  and  let  his 
pen  flow  without  knowing  what  would  come. 

Gotz  also  dashes  on,  in  wild,  outspoken  German,  —  no 
syntax,  no  punctuation,  only  pauses,  as  if  in  his  narra- 
tion he  must  stop  to  breathe  ;  no  thought  of  printing,  or 
even  of  reading  it  aloud  to  others.  Only  the  dim  idea 
that  posterity  ought  to  know,  truly  and  candidly,  how 
noble  his  intentions  had  been,  and  how  unjustly  he  had 
been  treated.  In  this  spirit  he  recalls  one  adventure 
after  another.  No  doubt  he  was  ready  to  strike  the 
table  with  his  iron  fist  to  confirm  the  truth  of  every 
word,  to  vouch  for  it  that  all  had  happened  exactly  as  he 
had  represented,  and  to  declare  that  he  would  prove  it,  too, 
in  the  face  of  whoever  might  dare  to  assert  the  contrary. 

Gotz  was  born  in  1480,  in  Wiirtemberg,  at  "  Jaxthau- 
sen  on  the  Jaxt."  The  family  still  exists,  and  is  pros- 
perous. Count  Friedrich  Wolfgang  von  Berlichingen 
(I  do  not  know  whether  the  second  name  had  anything 
to  do  with  Goethe)  republished  the  history  of  Gotz,  Avith 
all  the  documents,  in  1861. 


STORY    OF   THE    MAN    OF   THE   IRON   HAND.      101 

At  fifteen  years  of  age  Gotz  went  with  his  uncle  to  the 
Imperial  Diet  at  Worms.  He  early  learned  how  things 
went  on  at  these  Diets,  which  allowed  the  instigators  of 
the  strifes  and  contentions  which  filled  all  Germany  an 
opportunity  for  personal  contact,  when  they  could  plague 
and  pummel  each  other.  He  entered  while  young  into 
military  service,  attached  himself  to  various  princes,  and 
passed  through  many  campaigns,  but  always  as  an  inde- 
pendent man,  reserving  to  himself  the  right  to  criticise 
the  cause  for  which  he  enlisted.  At  the  siege  of  Lands- 
hut,  in  the  war  of  the  Landshutian  succession,  he  lost 
one  of  his  hands,  which  he  replaced  by  a  most  skilfully- 
wrought  iron  one. 

The  Emperor  now  commanded  a  general  peace  in  his 
realm.  Orders  like  these,  however,  were  mere  illusions, 
because  the  mania  for  quarrelling  among  the  knights  and 
princes  would  not  allow  peace  to  exist.  We  see  Gotz 
going  from  one  fight  to  another ;  imprisoned,  and  set  at 
liberty  ;  recklessly  rushing  again  and  again  into  the  strug- 
gle, and  earning  a  reputation  as  the  truest  and  bravest 
man  in  Germany.  In  1525  we  find  him  prepared  to 
accept  a  position,  which  to  us  is  now  incomprehensible, 
as  the  chief  leader  of  the  rebellious  peasants.  Towards 
the  end  of  the  war  he  is  taken  prisoner,  but  is  set  at 
large  on  condition  that  he  will  appear  at  the  proper  time 
to  answer  for  his  share  in  the  rebellion.  He  accepts 
these  terms,  and  at  the  proper  time  goes  to  Augsburg  to 
be  tried,  where  he  remains  two  years,  and  proves  clearly 
that  he  had  only  accepted  the  command  of  the  peasants 
to  avert  a  greater  evil.  On  this  ground,  in  1530,  he  is 
acquitted,  although  under  conditions.  He  must  remain 
quietly  in  his  castle  of  Hornberg,  must  give  full  satisfac- 
tion to  Mentz  and  Wiirzburg,  or  pay  twenty-five  thousand 
guilders.  As  security  for  all  this  he  leaves  many  host- 


102  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

ages,  and  lives  henceforth  according  to  his  promise.  But 
once  again  he  appears  in  arms  to  join  the  troops  of  the 
Emperor  Charles  against  the  Turks,  and  afterward  against 
Prance.  When  a  peace  is  concluded  he  returns  to  Horn- 
berg,  where  he  continues  to  reside  until  his  death,  on  the 
23d  of  July,  1562.  in  the  eighty-second  year  of  his  age. 

In  this  career  there  is  nothing  tragic,  —  only  the  ad- 
ventures of  a  knight,  who  after  a  turbulent  life  dies  a 
peaceful  death !  So  might  it  have  been  with  Hutten  had 
not  a  fatal  illness  brought  him  to  an  untimely  end  ;  and 
Luther,  who  is  the  best  type  of  the  energetic,  contending, 
invincible  German  of  the  sixteenth  century,  closed  his 
life  in  this  way.  The  motto  in  that  day  was,  "  God  help 
me,  I  cannot  do  otherwise ; "  and  then  in  the  universal 
confusion  to  press  on  until  strength  was  exhausted. 

The  accusation  has  been  brought  against  the  age  of 
the  Reformation  that  nothing  was  actually  accomplished, 
and  that  with  endless  compromises  no  unity  was  achieved. 
But  look  at  particulars  and  individuals !  What  hard 
heads  and  what  hard  fists !  And  when  we  rightly  con- 
template and  weigh  the  aggregate,  we  find  with  no  end  of 
haltings  the  most  satisfactory  progress. 

What  possessed  Goethe  to  give  to  this  long  career, 
ending  in  the  most  natural  death,  a  tragic  conclusion  ? 
Goethe's  drama  gives  us,  with  such  additions  and  sub- 
tractions as  pleases  him,  the  life  of  Gotz,  up  to  thirty 
years  before  his  death ;  Gotz,  in  the  play,  reaches  Augs- 
burg, and  there  dies  in  prison.  In  the  moment  of  death 
he  receives  the  news  that  his  sentence  has  been  remitted ; 
but  it  is  too  late. 

In  flagrant  violation  of  the  facts,  Goethe  seems  in  this 
conclusion  to  throw  upon  the  German  people  the  guilt 
of  having  sacrificed  one  of  their  best  men.  Can  this  be 
allowed  ? 


HISTORIC    AND    POETIC    TRUTH.  103 

And  here  we  come  to  an  important  subject,  —  the  dif- 
ference between  historic  faithfulness  and  poetic  truth. 

Why  is  the  charge  never  brought  against  Goethe  of 
having  falsified  history,  although  we  have  known,  as  peo- 
ple knew  then,  that  his  drama  does  not  correspond  to  the 
course  of  the  actual  story  ?  It  is  because  in  "  Gotz  "  such 
a  graphic  picture  of  German  manliness  and  German  life  in 
the  age  of  the  Reformation  is  given,  that  it  has  never 
entered  the  mind  of  any  one  to  compare  the  reality  with 
Goethe's  poem.  The  Gotz  who  wrote  his  own  biography, 
from  which  Goethe  drew  his  creation,  and  the  Gotz  who 
is  the  hero  of  the  drama,  are  two  persons  whose  identity 
is  indifferent  to  us.  When  we  study  the  works  of  a  great 
poet  who  borrows  historical  names  for  his  characters,  we 
must  stand  before  them  as  before  the  pictures  of  a  great 
painter  whose  subjects  are  taken  from  history.  I  use 
the  adjective  "  great"  in  both  cases,  because  in  such  dis- 
cussions only  masterpieces  of  the  first  rank  are  to  be 
considered. 

We  admire  in  a  picture  the  composition,  the  coloring, 
and  the  drawing ;  in  a  statue,  the  handling  of  the  marble, 
the  firm  moulding  of  the  figure,  and  the  different  points 
of  view.  When  we  see  a  life-like  figure,  we  do  not  ask  if 
it  is  a  good  likeness ;  but  whether  it  is  characteristic,  well 
painted,  and  effective.  There  have  been  thousands  of 
pictures  painted  of  the  Madonna,  often  with  marked  indi- 
vidual features  ;  but  it  has  never  occurred  to  any  one  to 
suggest  that  they  must  all  be  false,  because  no  two  of 
them  are  alike.  We  have  blond,  black-haired,  and  brunette 
Madonnas ;  yet  no  objection  is  made  to  these  differences : 
we  only  ask  if  the  picture  is  beautiful,  desiring  nothing 
more  of  it  or  of  the  artist.  When  Michael  Angelo  had 
wrought  in  stone  the  statues  upon  the  tombs  of  Giuliano 
and  Lorenzo  de  Medici,  and  was  reproved  because  they 


104  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

bore  no  resemblance  to  the  two  dukes,  he  answered : 
"  Who  in  the  future  is  to  know  how  Giuliano  or  Lorenzo 
actually  looked  ?  "  To-day  we  distinguish  one  from  the 
other  only  by  the  great  difference  of  character  expressed 
in  the  statues.  We  experience  this  oftener  than  we 
know.  We  imagine  we  find  in  many  historical  works 
the  facts  accurately  and  truly  stated,  while  in  reality  we 
have  only  the  impressions  formed  in  the  mind  of  the  nar- 
rator himself.  Poems,  on  the  contrary,  are  often  made 
to  serve  as  historic  coin.  We  know  certainly  that  Schil- 
ler's Mary  Stuart  does  not  correspond  to  the  actual  Mary  : 
this  matter  has  often  enough  been  discussed ;  but  we  are 
not  so  clear  what  difference  existed  between  Shakspeare's 
historical  plays  and  the  actual  events  of  English  history 
which  he  has  dramatized. 

As  soon  as  we  know  that  we  are  dealing  with  a  real 
work  of  art,  the  question  as  to  authentic  foundation  for 
the  facts  becomes  indifferent.  Equally  immaterial  is  the 
question  whether  Goethe,  in  describing  the  scenery  in 
"  Gotz,"  had  previously  been  in  Jaxthausen  to  study  the 
locality.  The  Jaxthausen  which  rises  before  our  eyes  in 
the  drama,  and  the  trees  over  whose  tops  it  projects,  are 
as  well  known  and  dear  to  us  as  a  second  home ;  while 
the  actual  place  as  we  drive  by  it  has  as  little  interest 
for  us  as  Romeo  and  Juliet's  tomb  at  Verona,  or  Tasso's 
prison  which  is  to-day  exhibited  in  Ferrara.  We  would 
not  miss  one  stone  from  Goethe's  Jaxthausen,  even  if 
most  convincing  proof  were  given  us  that  the  actual 
castle  is  wholly  different  from  the  one  described.  The 
truth  of  an  historical  work  of  art  lies  not  in  the  exact 
representation  of  what  was  peculiar  in  the  period  in 
which  it  was  laid,  but  rather  in  what  is  comprehensible 
in  all  times.  The  historical  costume  is  only  the  visible 
garb  in  which  something  is  presented  which  in  truth 


BEFOKE  AND  AFTER  THE  REFORMATION".   105 

lacks  all  geographical  and  chronological  foundation. 
There  was  never  in  any  century  an  England  in  which 
Shakspeare's  Lear  or  Richard  could  have  lived  ;  only  an 
England  raised  above  time  and  accident  is  the  native 
land  of  both.  And  the  fatherland  of  Gb'tz  von  Berlich- 
ingen  is  not  the  Germany  of  1480  and  1562,  but  our  un- 
changeable Germany  whose  forests  are  the  same  to-day 
as  they  were  a  thousand  years  ago. 

We  have  seen  what  harassed  Goethe  and  the  younger 
generation  about  him ;  how  they  saw  all  progress  impeded 
by  omnipotent  conventions  which  ruled  the  whole  order 
of  existence,  of  whose  worthlessness  they  were  thorough- 
ly convinced,  and  yet  to  whose  laws  it  was  necessary  to 
conform.  For  there  was  nothing  to  take  the  place  of 
these  conventions.  In  the  course  of  time,  indeed,  the 
French  Revolution  made  the  desperate  attempt  to  call 
forth  artificially  a  new  and  better  existence,  and  where 
resistance  was  offered  to  force  it  upon  mankind  by  the 
most  extreme  measures ;  but  no  one  dreamed  of  such 
things  in  the  days  when  Goethe  in  Strasburg  or  Frank- 
fort found  Gbtz's  biography.  With  amazement  he  now 
became  aware,  as  he  read,  that  it  was  not  the  first 
time  that  these  oppressions  had  weighed  upon  the  Ger- 
man people.  He  saw  in  Gb'tz  one  of  the  martyrs  re- 
quired by  Germany  in  times  like  his  own,  although  now 
long  past  from  remembrance.  He  saw  his  fatherland,  at 
the  beginning  of  the  Reformation,  involved  in  a  boundless 
web  of  political  intricacies,  whose  smallest  thread  was 
nevertheless  carefully  and  scrupulously  guarded  from  vio- 
lent hands.  He  had  only  to  use  his  eyes  to  see  that  the 
conditions  which  were  so  mighty  and  potential,  and  at  the 
same  time  so  impotent  and  powerless,  around  Gb'tz  were 
still  existing  in  full  force.  Not  Gotz's  world  stirred  him, 
as  he  read  the  book,  but  his  own  world,  whose  mirrored 
image  he  believed  he  saw  in  it. 


106  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

At  the  head  of  all  was  the  Emperor,  the  highest  con- 
ceivable power  in  the  land,  whose  authority  was  not 
limited  by  any  written  statute,  but  who  nevertheless 
encountered  a  justifiable  resistance  at  the  slightest  exer- 
cise of  his  power.  This  was  also  true  of  the  Germany  of 
1771.  Goethe  needed  only  to  observe  it. 

Next  to  the  Emperor  was  the  clergy,  theoretically  sub- 
ject to  the  Emperor  and  the  Pope,  but  in  fact  perfectly 
independent  of  both ;  in  theory  poor  and  without 
possessions,  yet  in  reality  owning  the  richest  parts  of 
Germany  ;  supposed  to  be  the  leaders  of  all  spiritual 
movements,  but  in  truth  mortal  enemies  to  all  pro- 
gress. Goethe  had  only  to  look  at  what  was  going  on 
around  him,  on  the  Rhine  or  in  Strasburg,  where  that 
Rohan  was  Archbishop  who  was  so  completely  duped 
by  Cagliostro,  and  where  the  people  lay  benumbed  in 
the  old  superstitions,  to  see  a  similar  'condition  of 
things. 

Next  to  the  Emperor  and  the  clergy  were  the  cities,  the 
marrow  of  Germany;  the  only  powers  which  represented 
to  the  outer  world  the  fatherland,  and  which  were  able  in 
their  own  might  to  defend  their  families  and  possessions. 
Here  also  was  amassed  the  money  which  emperors  and 
princes  must  borrow,  if  they  were  to  have  any  scope  in 
carrying  out  their  undertakings.  But  these  towns,  be- 
cause they  had  long  ceased  to  act  in  harmony,  were  con- 
demned to  political  stagnation  and  a  sterile  conservative 
existence.  This  also  was  still  visible  in  Goethe's  time. 
But  the  condition  of  the  German  cities  then  has  been 
already  discussed. 

Next  in  order  were  the  Secular  Princes,  whose  sole 
endeavor  was  to  make  themselves  independent  lords  of 
the  land,  but  who  had  no  opportunity  to  control  events 
in  such  a  way  as  to  increase  their  power;  and,  finally, 


A    SOCIAL   AND    POLITICAL    CHAOS.  107 

the  Knights,  —  the  enfants  terribles,  the  proudest,  most 
dangerous,  and  most  indispensable  element,  —  in  theory 
bound  in  duty  to  support  the  Emperor  and  their  liege 
lords  in  all  their  wars  ;  but  in  fact  wild,  independent 
people,  who,  if  their  service  was  to  be  had,  must  each  be 
separately  won.  They  reserved  to  themselves  the  right 
to  fight  on  the  side  which  best  suited  their  interests. 
Carrying  on  continual  feuds  with  each  other,  and  ever 
ready  to  rebel  against  their  superiors,  they  were  never- 
theless filled  with  a  tremendous  esprit  de  corps,  which 
found  expression  in  the  most  complicated  regulations  and 
ceremonies,  to  which  the  Emperor  himself  must  pay  the 
greatest  regard,  especially  if  he  wished  assistance  in 
carrying  on  a  war. 

The  Princes  had  found  in  Frederick  the  Great  their 
last  distinguished  representative.  Knighthood,  it  is  true, 
in  1771,  was  110  longer  what  it  had  been  of  yore.  But 
with  the  spirit  of  the  knights  Goethe  identified  himself 
and  his  friends  ;  that  is,  the  young,  independent,  patriotic 
generation,  who,  though  ready  for  action,  could  not  see 
clearly  what  they  were  to  assail  or  where  they  were  to 
begin  the  attack.  Thus  the  waves  of  political  excitement 
rose  and  fell :  no  one  is  presumptuous,  but  each  demands 
his  right ;  no  one  willingly  injures  another,  but  no  one 
will  bear  an  injury ;  each  submits  willingly  to  the  law  and 
to  the  tribunals  which  have  a  right  to  pass  sentence  on 
him,  but  none  will  allow  law  or  tribunals  to  be  forced 
upon  him  which  he  does  not  acknowledge  as  legitimate ; 
and,  finally,  each  one  reserves  to  himself  a  revision  of  the 
case  before  his  own  conscience,  and  if  the  public  decision 
does  not  stand  this  test  he  annuls  it  by  his  own  sovereign 
right.  We  ask  where,  in  the  midst  of  such  circumstances, 
lay  the  solid  coherence  of  Germany  ?  What  held  the 
great  sea  within  bounds,  and  prevented  its  devastating 


108  LIFE    AXD    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

overflow  ?  What  saved  each  man  from  blindly  attacking 
and  fighting  his  neighbor  ? 

The  elements  which  had  wrought  all  this  confusion 
possessed  also  the  power  to  ward  off  the  danger :  they 
were  our  inborn  honesty  and  the  intention  to  deal  justly 
with  every  man  ;  the  trustworthiness  of  a  person  who  had 
once  pledged  his  word ;  and  the  controlling  influence  of 
a  public  opinion,  always  striving  to  maintain  an  ideal 
stand-point,  against  which  vulgar  egotism  played  a  losing 
game.  With  these  elements  it  was  possible  to  find  a  way 
through  this  maze,  and  to  introduce  a  reformation  which 
with  slowly  increasing  power  was  bringing  about  a  new 
and  prosperous  order  of  things,  whose  last  delectable 
blossom  must  have  borne  fruit  if  it  had  not  been  nipped 
in  the  bud  by  the  Thirty  Years'  War.  As  a  political  part 
of  our  history  the  Reformation  is  held  in  no  especial 
esteem.  We  see  so  much  intellectual  power,  so  much 
attempted,  so  much  done,  and  yet  as  a  whole  nothing 
which  took  a  permanent  form.  It  fills  us  with  impatience 
to  wade  through  the  history  of  these  compromises.  It 
would  seem  as  if  Germany  should  have  come  out  of  this 
chaos  a  clear  crystal  with  radiant  sides  and  sharply  defined 
outlines ;  on  the  contrary,  it  was  the  steady  but  almost 
imperceptible  working  on  of  things  which  was  gradually 
raising  us  to  a  higher  level,  and  without  injury  to  any 
one  of  the  factors.  The  Thirty  Years'  War  which  put  an 
end  to  this  quiet  development  is  as  little  to  be  considered 
the  result  of  these  prosperous  conditions  as  a  pestilence 
which  suddenly  breaks  out  and  carries  off  the  people. 

All  these  elements  of  German  life  in  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury, without  exception,  met  in  and  had  a  perceptible 
influence  over  the  career  of  Gb'tz,  who  was  himself  in 
such  a  measure  the  product  of  his  age  that,  although 
with  his  memory  no  important  deed  is  connected,  he  is 


NATIVE   AND    FOREIGN   FORCES    AT    WORK.    109 

yet  a  striking  illustration  of  the  condition  of  things  in  his 
century.  Goethe  here  saw,  for  the  first  time,  what  the 
peculiar  German  element  was.  He  recognized  how  Gotz's 
times  resembled  his  own  also  in  this,  —  that  each  man 
must  follow  his  individual  intuitions  if  he  hoped  to  find 
the  true  path  in  the  midst  of  conditions  which  .were 
impracticable,  and  in  a  state  of  general  disintegration. 
There  was  only  this  difference,  that  the  situation  in  1771 
was  far  more  difficult  than  two  hundred  years  earlier. 

Goethe,  who  looked  upon  his  own  time  as  the  sequel  of 
the  Reformation,  must  have  asked  himself  how  things 
could  have  become  so  wretched  among  us  after  such  a 
glorious  beginning.  No  one  could  explain  this  better 
than  Gb'tz  von  Berlichingen.  In  this  time  of  national 
confusion  and  yet  of  budding  hopes  Goethe  sees  foreign 
views  gaining  ground  among  us,  and  discords  arising 
in  the  hearts  of  the  German  people,  by  which,  according 
to  him,  the  best  men  are  ruined.  His  hero,  a  German 
of  the  purest  stamp,  follows  the  bent  of  his  own  noble 
nature  and  moves  blamelessly  on  German  earth  so  long 
as  it  is  fertilized  by  its  own  native  fountains ;  but  now 
treacherous  foreign  waters  suddenly  overflow  the  land 
and  draw  from  the  soil  a  poisonous  crop  which  springs 
up  all  around  him.  He  is  bewildered ;  his  ideas  grow 
confused  ;  he  becomes  a  rebel  without  willing  it,  and  a 
criminal  without  knowing  it.  What  did  the  new  Roman 
law  know  of  that  old  German  legislation  in  which  every 
village,  one  might  almost  say  every  house,  had  its  own 
natural  laws  differing  one  from  another,  just  as  the 
horizon  itself  changes  to  each  man  when  seen  from  his 
own  doorstep  ?  It  thrills  us  to  the  heart  when  Gotz,  be- 
fore the  Augsburg  citizens  in  the  judgment  hall,  asks, 
first  of  all,  what  has  become  of  his  followers.  Gotz  is  at 
his  wits'  end,  thus  confronted  with  a  law  which  acknowl- 


.110  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

edges  no  distinction  in  circumstances.  "Weislingcn  also 
is  ruined  at  a  court  to  which  foreign  subtlety  and  deceit 
have  found  their  way.  Everything  finally  succumbs  to  the 
charms  and  intrigues  of  Adelheid,  whose  German  blood 
has  been  corrupted,  and  whom  Goethe  has  so  seductively 
painted  that,  as  he  tells  us  in  "  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit," 
he  became  enamored  of  her  himself.  Everywhere  hon- 
esty seems  to  play  a  losing  game  against  Machiavellian 
policy,  and  the  impersonal  Roman  formula  overmasters 
the  recognition  of  the  individual  in  the  German  law. 
The  German  knight,  the  peculiar  representative  of  the 
people  in  Goethe's  thoughts,  forsaking  the  seclusion  of 
rural  life  forces  himself  into  cities  and  courts ;  hence  is 
derived  Goethe's  motto  for  his  drama :  "  The  heart  of  the 
people  is  trodden  in  the  mire,  and  they  are  no  longer 
capable  of  noble  ambitions." 

What  do  we  think  of  these  views  ? 

We  see  Goethe  prejudiced  by  an  imperfect  knowledge 
of  our  history,  and  we  estimate  what  we  owe  to  foreign 
nations  to-day  very  differently.  We  have  renounced  the 
idea  of  indigenous  art,  poetry,  and  language  in  the  sense 
of  former  generations ;  we  see  the  great  universal  progress 
in  the  countries  around  us,  and  feel  that  the  movement 
in  Germany  is  in  closest  sympathy  with  it.  Our  reform- 
ation in  art  we  owe  to  the  study  of  the  Greeks  and 
Romans,  and  our  present  German  style  to  the  influence 
of  classic  syntax.  We  should  have  had  no  development 
of  our  own  without  the  introduction  of  foreign  ideas ; 
and  we  now  see  that  our  national  task  does  not  consist 
in  holding  on  to  our  traditions  and  customs  because  they 
are  German,  but  in  retaining  those  only  which  are  really 
good. 

At  the  same  time,  our  history  teaches  us  that  there 
are  permanent  traits  in  the  German  character  which  con- 


LEADING   INCENTIVE   IN   HIS    NATURE.        Ill 

stantly  reappear,  taking  their  own  peculiar  line  of  devel- 
opment ;  and  we  are  patriotic  enough  to  admire  these 
traits,  and  to  discover  in  them  the  foundation  of  our 
greatness :  and  therefore  it  is  that  we  love  and  honor 
what  is  German.  But  while  this  German  nature  in 
Goethe's  times  seemed  the  sole  possession  of  earlier  and 
almost  mythical  races,  whose  vigor  no  subsequent  gener- 
ation could  reach,  we  to-day  postpone  our  ideal  as  some- 
thing only  to  be  attained  in  the  future,  and  hope  to  do 
our  part  toward  the  fulfilment  of  what  stands  before  our 
eyes  as  the  mission  of  the  German  people  in  the  history 
of  the  world.  Of  all  this  Goethe  knew  nothing  when 
his  drama  first  awoke  in  his  mind.  While  he  cast  his 
thoughts  back  to  the  period  of  ancient  German  glory,  and 
saw  his  own  time  both  politically  and  aesthetically  in  such 
pitiable  dependence  upon  foreign  nations,  he  thought  he 
discovered,  captivated  by  Rousseau's  theory  of  a  return  to 
Nature,  a  fundamental  cause  for  this  unhappy  change  in 
the  adoption  of  foreign  customs  and  institutions  which 
began  in  the  age  of  the  Reformation. 

We  do  not  know  how  far  Goethe  advanced  with  "  Gotz" 
in  Strasburg.  It  would  seem  as  if  he  only  worked  upon 
it  in  imagination.  The  political  element  stood  foremost 
in  his  mind  while  he  wished  to  give  a  picture  of  public 
and  private  life  in  the  good  old  times,  —  something  the 
Germans  should  aspire  again  to  arrive  at,  and  such  as 
Rousseau  had  intended  in  his  "  fimile."  But  this  was  not 
enough  to  tempt  Goethe  to  give  his  ideas  visible  shape  in 
a  poem.  Wholly  new  and  personal  elements  must  be 
added  to  the  original  material  before  this  could  be  accom- 
plished. If  we  read  thoughtfully  "  Dichtung  und  Wahr- 
heit  "  and  his  correspondence,  we  are  convinced  that  the 
leading  incentive  in  his  nature,  which  like  the  mainspring 
of  a  watch  sets  all  the  machinery  in  motion,  was  to  free 


112  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

himself  from  all  the  merely  outward  and  conventional 
limitations  of  life.  Evidently,  as  soon  as  Goethe  began  to 
feel  himself  at  home  again  in  Frankfort  he  saw  what  his 
position  was  and  would  have  to  be  in  his  native  city,  in 
his  father's  house,  and  under  his  father's  authority  ;  and 
he  said  to  himself  that  a  man  was  justified  in  breaking 
away  when  he  saw  the  essential  rights  of  his  spiritual 
existence  in  danger.  But  circumstances  offered  no  op- 
portunity to  act  upon  this  philosophic  conclusion.  On 
the  contrary,  he  saw  himself  pledged  as  a  lawyer  to  the 
pursuit  of  a  profession  which  he  never  could  be  satisfied 
to  regard  as  his  life-work.  As  a  Frankfort  citizen  he  saw 
himself  incorporated  into  a  civic  body  whose  very  breath 
was  enough  to  drive  him  away.  To  be  compelled  to  live 
in  Frankfort  was  just  as  unbearable  to  Goethe  as  the 
forced  retirement  of  Hornberg  to  Gotz.  Nevertheless,  on 
quiet  reflection  he  acknowledges  to  himself  that  it  must 
be  endured,  and  submits,  though  his  desire  for  freedom 
constantly  rebels  against  it.  "  I,  dear  fellow,"  he  says  in 
one  of  his  letters,  "  let  my  father  do  as  he  pleases ;  and 
every  day  he  tries  to  draw  me  more  and  more  into  the 
web  of  all  these  city  affairs.  So  far  my  submission  con- 
tinues ;  but  one  wrench,  and-  all  the  seven-corded  ropes 
of  hemp  are  severed ! " 

Two  ways  presented  themselves,  one  real  and  one  ideal, 
to  gain  the  longed-for  freedom. 

The  real  was  some  fine  day  just  to  go  off.  But  for  this 
extreme  measure  I  have  said  already  that  the  opportunity 
was  not  to  be  wilfully  taken  :  it  must  be  offered  by  the 
manifest  hand  of  destiny  in  order  to  justify  his  going 
away  to  his  family  and  to  himself. 

The  ideal  was  to  seek  a  fictitious  being  on  whom  to  heap 
all  his  burdens  and  sufferings.  Of  this  imaginary  being 
he  makes  a  mouthpiece  to  say  all  that  he  is  forbidden  to 


HE    SPEAKS    THROUGH    HIS    CHARACTERS.      113 

utter ;  its  words  have  the  secret  import  of  a  manifesto ; 
the  more  lie  himself  is  obliged  to  conform  to  circum- 
stances, the  more  freely  he  makes  his  poetical  representa- 
tive give  vent  to  the  feelings  of  his  innermost  heart.  It 
was  always  with  this  end  in  view  that  Goethe  selected 
and  arranged  the  material  for  his  poems.  He  com- 
pares the  life  he  actually  leads  with  what  he  should  have 
led.  In  imagination  he  foresees  his  own  ruin,  like  that 
of  Gotz  in  the  prison  at  Augsburg,  if  he  continues  his 
career  under  the  hitherto  depressing  circumstances. 
Foreign  conventionalities,  wholly  alien  to  his  German 
nature,  must  gradually  crush  out  in  him  what  he  recog- 
nizes as  best  and  holiest.  Gotz  now  stands  before  him 
in  a  new  light.  Goethe  feels  this  historical  figure  draw 
nearer  to  him,  and  assume  features  resembling  his 
own.  Gotz's  inward  struggles  become  now  an  image 
of  what  he  himself  is  passing  through.  Early  also 
in  the  first  stage  of  the  drama  in  Frankfort  an  added 
element  made  the  poem  assume  a  prominent  place  in 
Goethe's  imagination,  and  the  new  stimulant  came  from 
a  wholly  different  direction.  Goethe  himself  tells  us 
about  it.  It  is  no  longer  his  country,  nor  the  situation  of 
Gotz  von  Berlichingen,  but  quite  another  figure  in  his 
soul  which  presses  forward  to  be  represented.  Filled 
with  the  consciousness  of  the  wrong  he  has  done  Fred- 
erika,  he  seeks  relief  in  whatever  way  it  is  to  be  found, 
and  undertakes  to  express  through  another  the  reproaches 
he  is  heaping  on  himself  for  the  desertion  of  this  maiden 
and  for  the  faithless  betrayal  of  a  heart  which  was  so 
unwary  that  it  could  not  even  comprehend  the  meaning  of 
faithlessness.  In  like  manner  Weislingen  deserts  Gotz's 
sister,  and  Weislingen's  character  now  takes  the  first 
place  in  Goethe's  interest.  From  this  moment  it  has  a 
vital  power,  and  is  a  living  thing  in  his  imagination. 


114  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

It  was  curious  how  he  was  finally  brought  to  commit 
to  paper  the  scenes  which  filled  his  mind.  He  cannot 
resolve  to  take  up  his  pen,  but  relates  so  much  of  what 
he  is  thinking  to  his  sister  Cornelia,  who  is  his  confidant, 
that  she  compels  him  to  go  to  work.  By  fits  and  starts, 
and  hurrying  forward  with  great  strides,  he  now  writes 
the  whole  play,  reading  it  aloud  to  her  just  as  it  is 
thrown  off.  Her  praise  induces  him  to  continue  the 
work,  which  in  the  autumn  of  1771  is  completed.  "I 
dramatize  the  story  of  one  of  the  noblest  Germans,"  he 
writes  in  November,  1771,  to  Salzmann,  "  to  rescue  from 
oblivion  the  memory  of  a  brave  man ;  and  though  it  costs 
me  much  labor  it  is  a  real  diversion,  which  I  need  here, 
for  it  is  sad  to  live  in  a  place,"  etc.  In  six  weeks  the 
work  is  done.  It  is  all  written  off-hand.  He  reads  single 
scenes  to  the  Flachsland,  and  sends  copies  of  it  to 
Salzrnann,  Merck,  and  Herder.  Salzmann  quickly  re- 
turns the  manuscript  with  a  careful  and  favorable  criti- 
cism, and  Merck  likewise ;  but  not  so  Herder. 

Here  Herder's  nature  shows  itself  again.  That  the 
piece  has  pleased  him  we  see  from  what  he  says  to  the 
Flachsland ;  but  at  the  same  time  Goethe  shall  not  gain 
ground.  He  ridicules  Goethe  ;  he  jokes  about  him  and 
his  work,  but  all  indirectly.  He  neither  writes  to  him  nor 
sends  the  piece  back  ;  and  when  at  last  he  does  write,  it  is 
in  a  hard,  unfriendly  tone,  assuming  such  superiority  of 
judgment  that  Goethe  feels,  as  he  had  in  Strasburg,  that 
he  is  standing  before  a  man  who  is  stronger  than  himself 
and  who  must  teach  him.  Whenever  real  criticism  was 
offered  Goethe,  we  see  him  always  grateful  and  humble, 
even  if  it  took  the  sharpest  form  ;  and  so  it  was  in  this  case. 

He  replies  to  Herder  with  a  touching  submission.  The 
letter  is  dated  July,  1772.  He  admits  all.  It  is  true  that 
Shakspeare  has  ruined  him  ;  that  his  drama  is  cold  and 


HOW  "GOTZ"  WAS  RECEIVED.  115 

intellectual.  "  Enough,"  he  concludes  ;  "it  must  be 
melted  over,  freed  from  dross,  supplied  with  nobler 
material,  and  recast,  when  it  shall  again  appear  before 
you."  This  letter  contains,  also,  something  which  shows 
how  difficult,  or  rather  impossible,  it  is  to  grasp  the  deep 
symbolic  meaning  of  a  poem  if  the  poet  himself  does  not 
give  the  clew.  We  are  reminded  of  the  beautiful  passage 
in  which  George  appears  before  Gotz  in  a  suit  of  armor 
much  too  large  for  him,  and  expresses  his  earnest  desire 
to  ride  with  him  and  fight  at  his  side.  To  this  scene 
Goethe  now  refers  while  characterizing  his  relation  to 
Herder.  He  feels  that  in  writing  his  drama  of  Gotz  he 
is  only  a  beginner,  and  has  no  right  to  go  along  with 
Herder  whose  full-grown  shoulders  completely  fill  out  his 
suit  of  armor.  How  charming  the  modesty  implied  in 
this  parallel !  But  now  did  this  innermost  consciousness 
of  insufficient  power  which  overwhelmed  Goethe  as  he 
compared  himself  with  Herder,  who,  a  practised  comba- 
tant, had  long  held  the  position  he  was  hoping  to  reach, 
really  suggest  to  him  the  character  of  George  ?  Is  the 
life-like  figure  of  this  youth  to  be  regarded  only  as  the 
poetical  result  of  this  sensitiveness;  or  did  the  scene  oc- 
cur to  him  by  chance  as  he  was  writing  to  Herder,  and 
strike  him  as  the  most  convenient  way  of  expressing 
what  he  wished  to  say?  To  answer  this  question  is 
beyond  the  critic's  power. 

Without  changing  anything  in  the  old  plot,  in  a  few 
weeks  Goethe  rewrote  the  entire  drama.  This  must  have 
been  in  the  autumn  of  1772,  a  year  after  the  first  manu- 
script was  finished.  His  work  amounted  chiefly  to  prun- 
ing the  piece  unmercifully,  like  a  hedge  which  had  thrown 
out  too  luxuriant  shoots  on  all  sides.  In  the  winter  of 
1772-73  it  was  printed,  Merck  sharing  the  expense.  In 
the  following  June  the  book  appears.  Now  Herder  is 


116  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

honest  enough  openly  to  confess  that  he  is  impressed  by 
the  work ;  and  from  that  time  he  grants  Goethe  equal- 
ity, and  perhaps  superiority,  to  himself. 

The  applause  which  the  drama  received  in  wider 
spheres  came  only  by  degrees  to  Goethe's  ears.  A  cun- 
ning knave  of  a  printer  ran  off  with  the  largest  share  of 
the  profits,  and  the  business  was  so  badly  managed  that 
he  was  forced  to  ask  his  friends  to  help  on  the  sale,  be- 
cause he  had  not  money  enough  to  pay  for  the  paper. 
He  issued  a  new  edition  himself  ;  but  the  profit  of  all 
the  other  editions  was  pirated  by  the  notorious  Berlin 
bookseller  Himburg. 

But  one  thing  Goethe  must  have  been  assured  of,  that  he 
had  created  an  excitement  of  the  most  extraordinary  kind. 
In  August,  1773,  he  exclaims  in  one  of  his  letters : 
"And  now  my  dear  Gb'tz!  I  rely  upon  his  healthy  na- 
ture :  he  will  continue  to  make  his  way.  He  is  a  human 
child  with  many  faults,  and  yet  withal  one  of  the  best. 
Many  will  take  offence  at  his  dress  and  some  rough 
angles.  But  already  I  have  received  so  much  applause  as 
to  astonish  me.  And  I  do  not  believe  I  shall  again  pro- 
duce anything  which  will  find  such  favor  with  the  public." 

In  the  mean  time,  while  attempting  with  broad  strokes 
to  picture  the  origin  of  "  Gotz,"  I  have  left  immentioned 
events  which  independently  of  this  work  made  the  years 
1772-73  the  most  important  in  Goethe's  mental  develop- 
ment. When  he  undertook  "  Gotz,"  his  sister,  the  Flachs- 
land,  Merck,  Herder,  and  a  few  others  formed  his  whole 
public  ;  when  the  work  came  out  this  circle  was  extended 
in  many  directions.  The  personal  feeling  which  Goethe 
hoped  to  assuage  by  this  task  had  long  been  outgrown,  and 
his  heart  had  formed  other  ties  out  of  which  a  new  poem 
arose  in  his  soul,  whose  success  was  destined  far  to  ex- 
ceed that  of  "  Gotz." 


NEW  LAW  PKACTICE  AT  WETZLAR.     117 


LECTURE  VII. 

THE   SORROWS   OP   YOUNG  WERTHER. 

'I  "'HE  first  Frankfort  manuscript  of  "Gb'tz"  was  just 
-*-  completed  and  had  been  given  into  the  hands  of 
his  distinguished  friends,  when  it  was  thought  best  (in 
the  spring  of  1772)  that  the  young  doctor,  who  had  only 
entered  upon  his  professional  career,  should  be  again 
interrupted  that  he  might  for  a  while  be  a  practitioner  in 
the  Imperial  Chamber  at  Wetzlar.  This  Imperial  Cham- 
ber was  the  highest  central  court  for  the  suits  which 
arose  among  the  countless  divisions  of  the  Holy  Roman 
Empire  of  the  German  nation.  The  rulers  in  these 
States,  owing  to  their  complicated  rights  and  titles,  fur- 
nished abundant  material  for  fresh  disputes.  But  the 
number  of  active  jurists  did  not  correspond  to  the  cases ; 
hence  arose  favoritism  and  neglect.  The  chief  consider- 
ation was  simply  how  to  command  influence  enough  to 
bring  the  cases  on.  For  one  hundred  and  sixty  years 
had  this  condition  existed,  when  the  Emperor  Joseph 
ordered  an  investigation  which  brought  to  light  the  most 
shameful  malpractices.  There-was  no  better  opportunity 
for  a  young  man  ambitious  of  distinction  than  to  be  en- 
gaged for  a  time  in  this  work  at  Wetzlar  ;  and,  added  to 
this,  Wetzlar  was  only  a  day's  journey  from  Frankfort. 

Goethe  was  so  absorbed  in  his  Frankfort  and  Darmstadt 
friends  that  it  seemed  scarcely  possible  that  new  attach- 


118  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

ments  could  spring  up  in  his  heart,  and  yet  he  now  fell 
into  a  family  circle  which  soon  absorbed  him  as  wholly 
as  the  clergyman's  family  at  Sesenheim  had  done.  Now 
begins  his  friendship  for  Lotte,  which  every  one  interested 
in  Goethe's  life  believes  he  fully  comprehends.  Yielding 
to  his  desire  to  feel  himself  at  home  in  some  agreeable 
family,  Goethe  became  a  frequent  visitor  at  Amtmann 
(steward)  Buff's,  in  the  renowned  "  Deutsches  Haus," 
which  still  stands  in  Wetzlar.  Lotte,  the  eldest  daugh- 
ter, had  already  as  good  as  plighted  her  heart  and  hand 
to  the  young  Kestner ;  and  the  happy  man,  half  her  lover, 
went  in  and  out  (it  was  one  of  the  conscientious  con- 
nections of  those  days),  and  became  Goethe's  particular 
friend.  Now  arose  the  struggle  in  Goethe's  soul  as  to 
whether  he  could,  as  perhaps  was  possible,  out-rival  Kest- 
ner in  Lotte's  heart.  He  was  true  to  his  friend.  The 
intercourse  continues  a  few  months.  It  becomes  neces- 
sary for  him  to  leave  Wetzlar,  and  one  fine  day  he  goes 
off  like  a  shot.  But  there  remains  as  the  result  of  this 
episode  a  life-long  friendship  between  him  and  the  whole 
Buff  family,  as  we  are  now  certain  from  a  correspond- 
ence which  for  a  long  time  was  so  jealously  guarded  by 
the  Kestner  family  that  it  was  only  known  to  exist ;  but 
it  has  now  been  in  print  for  more  than  twenty  years. 
These  were  the  simple  facts.  How  was  it  possible  to 
make'out  of  this  experience,  which  included  no  passionate 
or  violent  scenes,  the  most  beautiful  and  thrilling  German 
romance  which  has  ever  been  written  ?  We  will  make  it 
our  task  to  investigate. 

The  genesis  of  this  masterpiece  is  clearly  before  us. 
As  we  became  acquainted  with  the  incidents  from  which 
the  Sesenheim  idyl  arose,  which  Goethe  transfigured 
into  poetry  forty  years  after  they  occurred,  so  we  may 
now  follow  by  degrees  Goethe's  fancy  for  Lotte,  which, 


LOTTE  BUFF  IN  WETZLAR.         119 

in  the  course  of  a  single  year,  shaped  itself  in  his  imagi- 
nation into  the  "  Sorrows  of  Werther." 

It  is  curious  to  see  Goethe  at  that  time  spontaneously 
converting  all  the  realities  of  his  life  into  poetry.  He 
seems  to  us  like  one  upon  a  chase  through  the  realm  of 
humanity.  A  consuming  desire  urges  him  on  continu- 
ally to  new  experiences ;  he  surrenders  himself  wholly 
to  each,  and  then  with  pain  tears  himself  free,  only  rest- 
lessly to  seek  new  ties  by  which  to  be  again  made  captive. 
All  these  anticipations,  illusions,  and  excitements  leave 
behind  various  images  in  his  soul  which  enter  upon  a  life 
of  their  own,  uniting,  separating,  and  changing  until  they 
finally  come  forth  glorious  creations  moulded  to  com- 
pleteness ;  but  even  then  the  elements  are  not  quite  set 
at  rest,  but  are  subject  to  endless  transformations.  He 
does  not  always,  however,  pursue  the  same  method.  To 
represent  Frederika  poetically,  Goethe  has  exhibited  her 
under  different  forms.  Even  before  he  thought  of  leaving 
her,  as  the  first  reflected  image  Gretchen  had  become 
detached  from  her ;  then  Marie  Clavigo ;  perhaps,  also, 
Marie  von  Gotz  ;  and,  lastly,  the  form  which  bears  Fred- 
erika's  own  name  in  "  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit." 

But  we  find  Goethe's  imagination  taking  quite  another 
way  to  present  Lotte  as  a  poetical  vision.  The  Lotte 
who  held  sway  in  the  "  Deutsches  Haus"  in  Wetzlar,  and 
whom  Kestner  had  married,  was  not  fitted  by  her  simple 
nature  and  destiny  to  be  made  the  heroine  of  a  romance. 
The  suicide  must  take  place  of  a  man  who  was  a  perfect 
stranger  both  to  Goethe  and  Lotte,  to  suggest  the  climax. 
This  suicide  happened  more  than  a  month  after  Goethe 
left  Wetzlar ;  but  even  this  was  not  sufficient  to  furnish 
all  the  material  necessary  for  the  romance.  Another 
figure  moving  in  a  sphere  apart  from  Lotte  was  yet  to  be 
added ;  and  from  these  two  the  ideal  being  was  created 


120  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

whose  romantic  beauty  shed  its  lustre  finally  on  the 
single  form  of  Lotte  Buff  in  Wetzlar. 

Let  us  carefully  examine  the  details  of  what  happened 
in  Wetzlar.  From  the  9th  of  June  until  the  10th  of 
September,  1772  (exactly  three  months),  Goethe  lived 
with  Lotte  and  Kestner  in  Wetzlar.  Kestner  belongs  so 
intimately  to  both  that  he  is  not  to  be  separated  from 
Lotte  or  Goethe.  If  we  compare  what  the  romance  tells 
us  about  their  relation  with  the  statement  in  "  Dich- 
tung  und  Wahrheit,"  and  also  with  what  Goethe's  cor- 
respondence contains  regarding  it,  and  again  with  what 
Goethe  as  well  as  Kestner  occasionally  say  about  the 
matter,  it  follows  that  not  only  is  the  story  to  be  consid- 
ered merely  as  a  poem,  but  also  that  in  "  Dichtung  und 
Wahrheit "  a  myth  has  been  created,  as  in  the  case  of 
Frederika,  although  from  other  motives.  Mere  friendly 
consideration  for  Lotte,  whom  Goethe  would  not  deprive 
of  the  renown  she  had  so  long  enjoyed  of  having  inspired 
him  in  his  youth  with  a  beautiful  passion,  made  it  im- 
possible for  him  to  state  at  a  later  period  just  what  act- 
ually occurred. 

Indeed,  he  confesses  that  he  had,  like  Zeuxis  for  his 
Helen,  made  use  of  a  series  of  models,  and  that  several 
Lottes  are  united  in  the  Lotte  of  the  romance ;  but  even 
this  is  so  expressed  that  the  glamour  is  not  stolen  from 
Lotte  Buff,  and  she  does  not  lose  her  lustre  because  of 
rival  suns.  Goethe  mentions  no  name  but  hers.  Still, 
in  the  bare  exposition  of  the  reason  why  he  left  Wetzlar, 
a  contradiction  is  implied.  In  one  instance,  he  leads  us 
to  think  that  regard  for  Kestner  had  caused  his  retreat 
directly  he  lost  his  self-control ;  and  then  again  he  tells 
us  that  Merck  appeared  in  Wetzlar,  and  by  his  criticism 
cooled  his  enthusiasm  for  Lotte.  Either  the  one  or  the 
other  must  be  true,  for  both  at  the  same  time  seem 


FACT    AND    FICTION   ABOUT    LOTTE.  121 

impossible.  Comparing  the  authentic  letters  written  by 
Goethe  at  the  time  of  departure  with  these  two  concept 
tions,  we  find  that  he  breaks  off  abruptly  in  an  excited 
moment  as  if  it  were  a  matter  of  life  and  death,  and  goes 
away  feeling  that  every  additional  hour  near  Lotte  is 
fatal ;  and  he  writes,  after  he  is  gone,  like  a  desperate 
man.  Yet  he  writes  not  to  Lotte  but  to  Kestner,  to 
Lotte's  betrothed,  whom  he  must  have  hated.  This 
despairing  tone  at  the  loss  of  Lotte*,  who  should  properly 
have  been  his,  is  from  this  time  sustained  as  his  stereo- 
typed mood.  In  thought  he  converses  with  her;  he 
dreams  of  her ;  has  her  silhouette  over  his  bed ;  selects 
the  wedding-rings  ;  is  present  in  imagination  at  the  wed- 
ding,—  and  all  in  the  same  tone.  But  let  us  compare  with 
this  the  other  incidents  connected  with  Goethe  during 
this  not  brief  period,  and  we  shall  find  that  the  Kestner- 
Buff  correspondence  really  includes  very  little  of  it. 
Lotte  and  her  surroundings  form  an  Arcadian  pastoral  in 
Goethe's  mind,  —  a  wide,  lonely  region,  where  in  one 
spot  Lotte  and  her  family  dwell  in  their  cottage  ;  and  in 
another  Goethe,  apart  from  her,  sits  in  solitude.  And 
now  farther  we  will  compare  with  this  what  Kestner, 
who  was  a  pedantic  lover  of  the  truth,  has  recorded  in 
letters  and  diaries,  —  as,  for  instance,  his  assertion  that 
Goethe  behaved  mucli  more  magnanimously  than  the 
romance  would  lead  us  to  believe ;  and,  again,  that  Goethe 
never  stood  in  such  close  relations  to  Lotte  as  Werther 

in  the  fiction.     Indeed,  it  seems  as  if  Goethe  was  more 

t 

intimate  with  Kestner  than  with  Lotte. 

Something,  at  all  events,  has  been  withheld  which 
would  afford  an  explanation  of  these  contradictions.  Let 
us  recall  the  fact  that,  according  to  his  own  narration, 
Goethe  was  seized  when  near  Frederika  with  the  feeling 
that  he  was  trying  to  grasp  shadows,  —  and  this  even 


122  LIFE    AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

before  they  had  mutually  uttered  the  decisive  words  that 
they  loved  each  other.  Can  it  be  possible  that  in  Lotte's 
case  he  had  the  same  impression,  and  that  Merck  like 
Mephistopheles  only  finished  a  work  which  Goethe,  fol- 
lowing the  law  of  his  nature,  had  already  half  done  him- 
self ?  Goethe  seems  to  have  begun  to  criticise  his  feeling 
for  Lotte  before  Merck  came  to  Wetzlar  :  a  document 
showing  this  to  be  so  has  been  preserved. 

From  the  beginning  of  1772  Goethe  was  an  active 
critic  in  the  "  Frankfurter  Gelehrten  Anzeigen."  The 
most  able  of  all  his  articles  for  this  journal  was  written 
in  Wetzlar,  and  published  Sept.  1,  1772.  It  must  have 
been  composed  some  days  earlier,  at  least ;  and  even 
before  that  have  been  clearly  wrought  out  in  his  thought. 
It  is  a  critique  of  the  poems  of  a  Polish  Jew,  which  were 
published  that  same  year  in  Mitau  and  Leipsic.  We  pass 
over  what  Goethe  says  of  the  poems,  to  come  to  the  close 
of  the  essay,  which  alone  interests  us.  It  runs  thus  : 

"  0  Genius  of  our  Fatherland !  May  a  youth  soon  arise 
who,  full  of  youthful  merriment  and  vigor,  will  in  his 
circle  be  the  most  genial  companion,  suggesting  the 
most  pleasing  games,  singing  the  most  joyful  songs, 
animating  the  chorus  and  roundelay ;  to  whom  the  best 
dancer  will  gladly  give  her  hand  to  dance  a  series  of  the 
newest  and  most  varied  figures  ;  before  whom  the  fairest, 
the  wittiest,  and  the  gayest  displays  her  charms  to  ensnare 
him ;  whose  sensitive  heart  is  made  captive ;  who  in  a 
moment  proudly  tears  himself  free  again,  and  on  awak- 
ing from  his  poetic  dream  finds  that  his  goddess  is  only 
beautiful,  only  witty,  only  gay ;  or,  his  vanity  offended 
by  the  indifference  of  a  reserved  maiden,  intrudes  himself 
upon  her,  and  by  feigned  sighs,  tears,  and  tokens  of 
sympathy,  added  to  manifold  tender  attentions  during 
the  day  and  melting  songs  and  music  by  night,  finally 


A    RAPTUROUS    ESSAY.  123 

conquers  her,  only  again  to  leave  her  because  she  is  only 
coy  ;  who,  with  the  daring  freshness  of  an  unsubdued 
heart,  jeers  arid  exults  over  his  defeats  or  victories, — yes, 
over  all  his  follies  and  humiliations  ! 

"  But  we  should  glory  in  this  fickle  boy,  who  cannot 
find  a  few  commonplace  feminine  charms. 

"  And,  0  Genius !  be  it  publicly  known  that  neither 
shallowness  nor  weakness  is  the  cause  of  his  fickleness. 
Let  him  but  find  a  maiden  who  is  worthy  of  him !  If, 
led  by  holier  feelings,  he  seeks  a  solitude  far  from  the 
whirl  of  society,  and  finds  in  his  wanderings  a  maiden, 
whose  soul  all  gentleness,  whose  form  all  grace,  has 
harmoniously  developed  in  the  quiet  circle  of  active  do- 
mestic love  and  duty  ;  the  darling,  the  friend,  the  support 
of  the  mother,  —  indeed,  herself  a  second  mother  in  the 
home  ;  whose  love-enkindling  soul  irresistibly  attracts  all 
hearts  ;  to  whom  poet  and  philosopher  would  willingly 
go  to  school,  seeing  so  much  courtesy  and  grace  united  to 
intrinsic  virtue  :  and  oh  !  if  she  in  hours  of  solitude  feels 
that  with  all  this  overflowing  love  she  yet  longs  for  a 
heart  which,  young  and  warm  as  hers,  will  anticipate 
with  her  the  more  distant  felicities  of  this  world,  and  in 
whose  animating  presence  she  may  hope  to  realize  the 
golden  visions  of  eternal  companionship,  lasting  union, 
and  immortal,  evergrowing  love  !  —  should  these  two  find 
each  other,  they  at  once  divine  what  an  embodiment  of 
bliss  each  has  secured  in  the  other,  and  that  they  never 
can  be  parted.  Then  let  him  stammer  —  foreshadowing, 
hoping,  enjoying  —  what  none  with  words  have  ever  spoken 
out ;  none  with  tears,  none  with  the  long,  lingering  look 
and  the  soul  in  it.  Truth  and  living  beauty  will  then  be 
in  his  songs,  not  the  glittering  baubles  floating  in  so 
many  German  melodies.  But  are  there  such  maidens  ? 
Can  there  possibly  be  such  youths  ?  " 


124  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

We  see  thus  early  the  language  in  which  "  Werther  " 
was  afterward  written  :  it  gushes.  Undoubtedly  Lotte  ia 
here  sketched,  and  the  closing  questions  show  that  Goethe 
thought  it  necessary  to  ward  off  the  suspicion  that  it  was 
drawn  from  lif.e.  At  the  same  time,  however,  he  speaks 
again  of  awaking  from  the  poetic  dream :  and  the  ques- 
tion is,  whether  this  awakening  had  not  in  the  actual 
case  already  occurred ;  so  that  the  ideal  picture  he  has 
given  us  is  not  Lotte  as  she  was,  but  as  she  must  have 
been  to  have  really  captivated  him. 

In  the  mean  time,  whether  I  have  guessed  rightly  or 
not,  Merck  arrives  one  day  in  Wetzlar,  and  proceeds  to 
test  Goethe's  extravagant  admiration  for  Lotte.  It  does 
not  stand  the  test.  He  succeeds  in  so  far  cooling  his  en- 
thusiasm that  Goethe  tranquilly  plans  his  departure,  and 
shortly  after  Merck's  visit  actually  leaves  Wetzlar.  If 
the  honest  Kestner,  in  the  beginning,  had  to  go  through 
a  severe  conflict  as  to  whether  he  ought  to  surrender  his 
claims  to  Goethe  as  being  his  superior,  now  at  least 
there  was  no  longer  any  question  about  the  matter.  The 
relation  had  reached  its  natural  climax,  and  exhausted 
itself  without  injury  to  either  of  the  three  concerned. 

But  if  Goethe  was  so  very  calm  when  he  left  Lotte 
and  Wetzlar  on  the  10th  of  September,  1772,  how  are  we 
to  account  for  the  letters  in  which  he  bade  farewell  to 
Lotte  and  Kestner  ?  If  Goethe  wished,  for  Kestner' s 
sake,  to  maintain  his  reserve  as  regards  Lotte,  why  this 
glowing  language,  which  at  the  last  moment  might  have 
taken  Lotto's  heart  by  storm  and  drawn  her  irresistibly 
to  him  ?  And  how  is  it  consistent  with  the  despairing 
tone  of  these  last  hours  that  Goethe  directly  after  writing 
the  letters  should,  in  the  most  tranquil  frame  of  mind, 
wander  along  the  banks  of  the  Lahn,  find  new  friends, 
and  attach  himself  to  them  most  heartily  ?  This  contra- 


THE  KESTNER  LETTERS.          125 

diction  is  only  to  be  explained  by  trusting  Goethe's  let- 
ters and  the  assertions  he  makes  at  the  time  of  his  sep- 
aration from  Lotte,  and  by  setting  wholly  aside  all  that  is 
contained  in  "  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit  "  and  the  romance, 
as  has  been  done  by  the  editor  of  the  Kestner  letters. 
We  give  the  letters  :  — 

GOETHE  TO  KESTNEK. 

Sept.  10, 1772. 

He  is  gone  —  when  you  receive  this  note  :  he  is  gone ! 
Give  Lotte  the  enclosed  letter.  I  was  quite  composed, 
but  the  conversation  with  you  tore  me  all  to  pieces.  I  can 
say  nothing  to  you  at  this  moment  but  farewell.  If  I  had 
remained  with  you  an  instant  longer,  I  could  not  have  con- 
tained myself.  Now  I  am  alone,  and  to-morrow  I  go.  Oh, 
my  poor  head  ! 

GOETHE    TO    LOTTE. 

[Enclosed  in  the  above.] 

I  certainly  hope  to  return,  but  God  knows  when !  Lotte, 
what  did  I  feel  at  your  words,  when  I  knew  I  was  with  you 
for  the  last  time  !  No,  not  the  last  time  ;  and  yet  to-morrow 
I  go  away  !  He  is  gone !  What  spirit  led  you  to  that  discus- 
sion? When  I  might  have  said  all  I  felt,  ah!  I  only  thought 
of  this  world,  of  her  hand,  —  which  I  was  kissing  for  the 
last  time,  —  of  the  room  which  I  shall  not  see  again,  and  the 
dear  father  who  accompanied  me  for  the  last  time ! 

I  am  now  alone,  and  may  weep.  I  leave  you  happy,  and 
do  not  go  away  from  your  heart.  And  I  shall  see  you 
again,  but  not  to  see  you  to-morrow  seems  to  me  like  never. 
Say  to  my  boys,  he  is  gone !  I  cannot  go  on. 

GOETHE    TO    LOTTE. 

[Enclosed  in  the  former.] 

My  things  are  packed  up,  and  the  day  breaks.  One  quar- 
ter of  an  hour  more,  and  I  am  off !  The  pictures  which  I 


126  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

have  forgotten,  and  which  you  will  divide  among  the  chil- 
dren, must  be  my  excuse  for  writing,  when  I  have  nothing 
to  say;  for  you  know  all,  —  know  how  happy  these  days 
have  been  to  me.  And  I  go  to  the  dearest  and  best  of  men 
—  but  why  from  you?  It  is  so  ;  and  my  fate  is,  that  I  can- 
not add  to  to-day  to-morrow  and  the  next  day,  —  what  I  so 
often  added  in  joke. 

Be  always  cheerful,  dear  Lotte :  you  are  happier  than 
hundreds.  Only  do  not  be  indifferent ;  and  I,  dear  Lotte, 
am  happy  to  read  in  your  eyes  that  you  have  faith.  I  shall 
never  change.  Adieu,  a  thousand  times  adieu ! 

GOETHE. 

To  explain  these  letters  we  borrow  the  following  pas- 
sage from  a  letter  written  to  Kestner  six  mouths  later, 
dated  "  April,  1773  "  :  - 

"I  have  had  a  beautiful  day,  —  so  beautiful  that  labor  and 
joy,  striving  and  attaining,  were  one.  And  when  the 
glorious  stars  appeared  in  the  evening  sky  my  whole  heart 
was  full  of  the  rapturous  moment  when  I  sat  at  your  feet, 
and  played  with  the  fringe  of  Lotte's  dress;  ami,  ah  !  with  a 
heart  which  was  to  enjoy  even  that,  spoke  of  the  beyond, 
and  did  not  mean  the  clouds,  but  the  mountains  only." 

What,  then,  had  happened?  Goethe,  fully  resigned, 
sits  one  evening  at  Lotte's  feet.  A  conversation  carried 
on  by  the  three  suddenly  takes  a  turn  which  excites  him 
so  powerfully  that  he  feels  things  must  be  brought  to  an 
end.  What  moves  Goethe  so  deeply  is  a  misconception 
of  Lotte's.  He  had  spoken  only  of  a  short  absence  from 
her ;  but  in  a  highly  excited,  ideal  mood.  She  declares 
herself  prepared  to  resign  Goethe  wholly  for  this  life. 

But  does  it  not  now  appear  like  wounded  vanity  ?  At 
times,  when  reviewing  his  past  life  in  later  years,  Goethe 
reproached  himself  for  what  he  called  Ins  obtuseness  and 


THE    CRISIS    IN    THE    WETZLAR   IDYL.          127 

his  predilection  for  doubtful  connections.  He  had  with 
his  passionate  nature  led  himself  and  others  into  situa- 
tions in  which  a  prompt  and  clear  explanation  was  neces- 
sary ;  but  he  becomes  suddenly  like  one  paralyzed  ;  sees 
what  is  before  him  without  being  able  to  take  any  resolute 
steps,  and  lives  on,  not  exactly  hoping  for  a  fortuitous 
solution,  but  recognizing  it  as  the  only  possible  means  of 
release.  Goethe  himself  speaks  of  this  so  openly,  accus- 
ing himself  of  having  yielded  to  this  tendency  where  im- 
portant questions  were  involved,  that  it  can  be  spoken  of 
confidently.  So  matters  stood  in  this  case. 

Goethe,  who  at  the  same  time  had  the  wonderful  gift 
of  following  out  in  all  their  consequences  and  of  fore- 
telling the  slow  development  of  things,  had  seen  a  double 
calamity  impending  in  Lotte's  fancy  for  him  and  in  the 
generous  withdrawal  of  Kestner  in  his  favor.  He  per- 
haps felt  himself  unable  either  to  respond  to  the  one  or 
to  accept  the  other.  Goethe  did  not  trust  his  own  heart. 
The  lot  of  two  human  beings  would  have  been  uselessly 
sacrificed  for  him.  He  saw  just  how  matters  stood,  and 
knew  what  to  do  and  what  not  to  do.  It  had  been  the 
same  in  Sesenheim ;  only  there  he  could  not  resign  the 
sweet  habit  of  living  on  in  close  proximity  to  the  beloved 
one  as  he  had  begun  to  live. 

With  Lotte,  however,  he  had  felt  himself  quite  safe, 
until  that  evening  when  an  experience  touched  him  for 
which  he  was  not  prepared.  Sitting  together,  they  had 
talked  of  Goethe's  approaching  departure,  —  by  which 
Goethe  only  meant  his  going  to  Frankfort.  But  the  in- 
difference which  makes  Lotte  misunderstand  him,  accept 
quietly  the  idea  of  seeing  him  in  another  life,  and  calmly 
extend  to  him  her  hand,  never,  as  she  says,  expecting 
to  see  him  again  in  this  world,  —  this  suddenly  kindles 
in  him  a  feeling  of  which  he  had  not  the  slightest  concep- 


128  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

tion.  He  had  been  strong  enough,  so  long  as  it  lay  in 
his  might  and  choice,  to  go  away  from  Lotte ;  but  now 
that  it  is  she  who  resigns  him  at  once  with  such  equa- 
nimity, a  demoniac  desire  is  instantly  roused  to  prove  to 
this  maiden  that  a  heart  like  his  was  not  to  be  thrust 
aside  Avithout  ceremony.  And  now  he  finds  that  he  has 
given  himself  credit  for  more  strength  than  he  possesses  ; 
and  it  becomes  clear  to  him  that  he  must  make  an  end  of 
it  at  once. 

It  is  this  sudden  outburst  of  a  comparatively  new  pas- 
sion which  fills  the  two  notes  written  on  the  evening  of 
the  10th  of  September.  Even  the  next  morning  he  re- 
gards the  matter  more  calmly,  and  adds  a  few  words  in  an 
altered  tone  ;  while  a  half  year  later  he  speaks  with  light 
irony  of  himself  at  that  time.  Nothing  of  all  this  is  to 
be  found  in  "  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit." 

If  I  declare  Goethe's  representation  of  his  love  for 
Lotte  in  "  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit "  to  be  a  myth,  I  do  not 
mean  that  it  is  untrue ;  but  only  that  he  has  lent  to  the 
whole  narration  certain  figurative  universal  lineaments, 
which  while  betraying  the  facts  still  veil  them.  Goethe 
prefers  to  conceal  what  drove  him  away  from  Wetzlar ; 
and  who  has  any  right  to  know  it  ?  Hence  the  some- 
what mysterious  words :  "  I  separated  myself  from  her 
not  without  pain,  and  yet  without  repentance." 

It  was  Merck  who  exerted  himself  to  take  Goethe  away 
from  Wetzlar,  —  probably  he  knew  well  what  he  was 
doing;  and  it  was  also  Merck  who,  to  work  out  the  cure 
before  Goethe  settled  himself  again  in  Frankfort,  pro- 
posed the  journey  which  ultimately  led  to  the  writing  of 
the  "  Sorrows  of  Werther."  He  invited  Goethe  to  meet 
him  at  Frau  von  Laroche's  on  the  Rhine,  and  they  agreed 
to  meet  at  Coblenz.  Goethe  sent  his  baggage  in  advance, 
and  went  on  foot  himself  down  the  Lalm  valley.  He  de- 


THE  OLD  AND  THE  NEW  EHINE.    .   129 

scribes  the  way  he  took,  which  few  people  to-day,  when 
the  convenient  railroad  is  scarcely  to  be  avoided,  would 
be  tempted  to  follow.  He  saunters  along  so  slowly  that 
he  is  several  days  in  reaching  Ems.  From  there  he  pro- 
ceeds by  boat.  "  Here  the  '  alte  Rhein '  revealed  itself  to 
me." 

There  is  an  earlier  and  a  later  Rhine  poetry.  To  the 
earlier  belong  the  times  when  Clement  Brentano  sang 
the  "  Lorelei,"  Gunderode  and  Bettina  rhapsodized  on 
the  Rhine,  and  Goethe  himself  again  visited  and  de- 
scribed its  glorious  banks ;  to  the  later,  the  younger 
Romanticists,  whose  key-note  was  sounded  by  Simrock, 
and  who  were  localized  in  Cologne  and  Dusseldorf,  while 
the  former  belonged  rather  to  the  Rheingaue.  The 
earlier  was  more  lyrical ;  the  later  more  political  and 
historical ;  and  to-day,  —  when  the  steamboat  is  scarcely 
used  because  the  railroad  takes  one  more  rapidly  along 
the  banks  of  the  river,  which  is  hardly  seen  from  the  car- 
windows,  and  whose  hurrying  waves  and  vessels  seem  to 
be  lagging  idly  behind,  —  even  this  has  come  to  an  end, 
and  the  lonely  traveller  with  difficulty  works  himself  up  to 
a  fictitious  enthusiasm  from  what  he  reads  about  it  in  the 
guide-book. 

But  in  1772,  when  Goethe  was  young,  no  worn-out  ro- 
mantic glamour  was  needed  ;  for  the  Rhine  was  really  in 
its  own  majesty  still  the  "  alte  Rhein."  All  the  castles 
and  monasteries  mirrored  in  its  waves  were  then  filled 
with  rich  ecclesiastical  and  secular  nobles,  and  all  the 
motley  immemorial  order  of  things  was  filled  with  a  life  of 
which  no  one  remains  to-day  to  tell  the  tale.  How  many 
different  lords'  territories  at  that  time  bordered  on  the 
river  or  were  intersected  by  it !  Over  its  surface,  still 
waved  the  full,  warm  breath  of  South  Germany ;  while 
to-day  it  has  become  North  Germany  and  cool.  Goethe 

9 


130  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

tells  us  about  his  journey  slowly  and  quietly,  for  his 
progress  was  slow.  "  Finally,  grand  and  majestic,  the 
castle  of  Ehrenbreitstein  appears." 

At  his  feet  in  the  valley  lay  the  country  house  of  the 
Privy  Councillor  von  Laroche.  The  site,  the  different 
views  from  the  place,  the  interior  ornamentation,  are 
brought  before  our  eyes  with  a  pleasing  garrulousness,  as 
if  they  must  remain  so  forever. 

Goethe,  when  writing  his  final  description,  had  himself 
seen  other  times,  —  had  lived  through  the  whirlwind  in 
France  which  had  put  an  end  to  all  this  abundance, — 
but  he  writes  with  the  certainty  with  which  an  aged  man 
may  tell  how  things  were  on  the  Rhine  in  the  old  days 
when  he  was  young.  These  times,  and  with  them  Frau 
von  Laroche  and  the  many  volumes  she  then  published,  are 
at  present  forgotten  in  Germany.  Her  romances  no  longer 
make  any  eyes  moist.  Recently,  books  and  magazine- 
articles  have  been  written  about  her ;  but  the  world  at 
large  knows  nothing  of  Sophie  von  Laroche.  Her  expe- 
riences are  antiquated.  There  is  no  intrinsic  power  in 
them.  Fate  had,  indeed,  blown  the  poor  woman  hither 
and  thither ;  but  she  never  encountered  the  actual  storm 
which  might  have  completely  unfolded  her  nature. 

She  was  engaged  in  her  youth  to  a  handsome  Italian, 
from  whom,  for  her  father's  sake  and  on  account  of  his 
religion,  she  separated.  She  next  failed  in  a  matrimo- 
nial affair  with  Wieland,  whose  mother  stepped  between 
them,  although  he  remained  through  life  her  devoted 
friend.  Ten  years  later  she  married,  from  external  mo- 
tives, Herr  von  Laroche;  and  it  was  not  until  her  children 
were  almost  grown  up  that  her  first  work  appeared,  ed- 
ited by  Wieland.  It  was  a  sensational  romance,  called 
"  Die  Geschichte  des  Fraulein  von  Sternheim,"  which 
made  her  known,  or,  as  the  phrase  is  now-a-days,  "  re- 


SOPHIE    VOtf   LAROCHE.  131 

nowned."  In  criticising  this  romance,  Goethe  gained  his 
first  literary  spurs. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  "  Gelehrten  Frankfurter  Anzei- 
gen  "  started  by  Merck  and  Schlosser.  Goethe's  critical 
essays,  long  since  included  in  his  works,  and  also  to  be 
found  in  Hirzel's  collection,  form  a  considerable  series. 
On  the  14th  of  February,  1772,  a  discussion  as  to  the 
merits  of  this  romance  appeared,  in  which  the  second  part, 
or  sequel,  was  treated  in  a  manner  which  gave  Madame 
von  Laroche  nothing  to  complain  of. 

Goethe's  criticisms  showed,  as  the  work  of  a  beginner, 
perfect  facility  in  the  use  of  language  and  a  wealth  of 
sound  thought  stated  with  provoking  self-reliance.  We 
feel  at  once  that  the  older  writers,  who  were  a  power  at 
that  time,  must  have  felt  an  electric  shock  at  his  tone ; 
and  it  was  natural  that  they  should  seek  to  establish  some 
sort  of  friendly  relations  with  this  rising  young  genius. 
Although  now  over  a  hundred  years  old,  with  a  few 
changes  in  the  leading  words  these  essays  would  maintain 
their  rank  among  modern  productions.  In  the  review  of 
"  Die  Geschichte  des  Fraulein  von  Sternheim,"  the  previous 
criticism  of  the  first  part  of  the  novel  is  analyzed  and 
refuted.  Goethe's  judgment  of  the  book  was  so  flattering 
that  he  was  perhaps  indebted  to  it  for  his  first  meeting 
with  Madame  von  Laroche,  which  took  place  in  the  spring 
of  1772  before  the  visit  to  Wetzlar.  She  then  went  to 
Darmstadt,  where  they  were  disappointed  in  her ;  for, 
instead  of  a  simple  soul,  like  the  Fraulein  von  Sternheim, 
a  lady  appeared  who,  with  knowledge  of  the  world  and 
not  without  pretensions  to  beauty,  usurped  the  first  place 
in  the  salon.  Caroline  Flachsland,  exasperated  at  this, 
wrote  to  Herder.  She  said  Goethe  was  so  sick  of  Madame 
already  in  Frankfort  that  he  would  not  come  with  her  to 
Darmstadt;  and  the  Flachsland,  who  always  painted 


132  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

in  strong  colors,  uses  these  words  :  "  Goethe  was  furious 
as  a  lion  against  her." 

In  "  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit "  no  reference  is  made  to 
this  journey.  Goethe  felt,  when  recording  his  recollec- 
tions, that  to  introduce  Madame  von  Laroche  worthily, 
she  should  be  presented  as  the  presiding  genius  of  a 
country-house  at  Thai  on  the  Rhine.  He  therefore 
passes  over  unnoticed  what  occurred  earlier.  We  receive 
the  impression  that  on  his  Rhine  journey  in  1772  he  was 
struck  for  the  first  time  with  the  real  charms  of  Madame 
von  Laroche  and  the  beauty  and  grace  of  her  daughter 
Maximiliane,  who  had  also  accompanied  her  mother  to 
Frankfort  in  the  spring.  He  describes  the  appearance  of 
Madame  von  Laroche,  whose  social  position  was  between 
noble  lady  and  citizen's  wife ;  her  dress  always  the  same, 
simple  but  distinguished,  corresponding  to  her  manner. 
Added  to  this  was  the  tact  and  friendliness  of  her  husband, 
and  the  loveliness  of  her  children.  Maximiliane  was  just 
entering  maidenhood,  —  rather  small  than  large,  with  the 
blackest  eyes,  and  a  complexion  as  fresh  and  blooming  as 
it  is  possible  to  conceive,  —  still  half  a  child,  but  through 
her  intercourse  with  her  father,  to  whom  she  clung  with 
special  tenderness,  superior  to  her  years.  Maximiliane 
Laroche  was  the  mother  of  Bettina  and  Clement  Bren- 
tano.  These  will  be  spoken  of  later ;  and  I  only  call 
attention  to  them  here  as  explaining  why  Bettina,  in 
printing  her  letters,  called  them  Goethe's  "  Correspond- 
ence with  a  Child."  Maximiliane's  children,  as  formerly 
Lotte  Kestner's,  believed  themselves  to  hold  a  sort  of 
kinship  to  Goethe. 

In  the  house  of  Madame  Laroche,  where  friends  were 
constantly  coming  and  going,  Goethe  came  in  contact 
for  the  first  time  with  what  we  may  call  the  dominant 
literature. 


THE   FAMILY   AT   THAL.  133 

In  Leipsic  he  had  seen  Gellert  and  Gottsched  working 
as  leaders  of  powerful  factions,  but  was  naturally  much 
too  young  to  take  part  in  such  things  either  to  co-operate 
or  to  oppose.  What  he  wrote  himself  at  that  time  were 
only  flie  crude  efforts  of  a  student,  who  does  not  yet 
know  what  direction  to  follow.  In  Strasburg  he  cer- 
tainly felt  more  self-reliance ;  but  even  there  he  was 
not  known  beyond  the  circle  of  his  sympathizing  friends. 
In  Frankfort,  at  last,  he  touched  the  pulse  of  the  great 
public.  But  the  "Anzeigen"  and  its  contributors  looked 
upon  themselves  as  a  younger  generation ;  their  watch- 
word was  battle ;  a  path  was  first  to  be  hewn  out ; 
they  were  a  new  departure,  represented  by  new  people. 
Madame  Laroche  on  the  contrary,  under  the  protection 
of  Wieland,  was  a  member  of  an  old  and  tried  system  of 
power  and  experience.  Wieland  was  a  man  of  some  sig- 
nificance in  Germany.  His  influence  was  not  a  thing  of 
yesterday ;  and,  as  he  felt  himself  thoroughly  safe  and 
strong,  so  likewise  those  who  were  allowed  to  be  partners 
with  him  regarded  themselves  as  under  his  protection. 
The  relations  of  Goethe  to  Wieland  for  the  next  three 
years  were  founded  on  the  maintenance  of  the  different 
stand-points  they  had  taken.  Wieland  attempted,  with 
the  skill  of  a  real  business  man,  to  assert  his  authority, 
until  it  finally  dawned  upon  him  that  he  must  submit. 
But  of  this  we  shall  speak  in  its  proper  place. 

Goethe's  pleasing  description  of  his  visit  to  the  house 
at  Thai  hardly  allows  us  to  believe  that  he  was  only 
there  five  days,  as  Loeper  asserts.  We  feel  as  if  he  must 
have  been  there  at  least  a  fortnight.  The  different  phases 
of  social  life  there  are  described,  as  it  were,  in  organic 
succession ;  the  different  characters  of  the  people  who 
gathered  there,  sketched  ;  and  he  finally  tells  us  how  near 
all  came  to  having  a  bad  time  at  the  end.  Merck  arrives 


134  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

with  his  family.  A  ferment  directly  begins  among 
the  guests :  incompatibility  of  temper  manifests  itself. 
Merck's  sneers,  his  coldness  and  restlessness,  arouse  a 
feeling  of  discomfort  in  the  company  ;  so  that,  just  at  the 
right  time,  the  signal  for  breaking  up  is  given.*  But 
note  well  how  Goethe  allows  that  Merck  works  here,  as 
at  Wetzlar,  in  Mephistophelian  fashion.  Goethe  takes 
the  returning  yacht  (the  representative  of  the  official 
trade  of  the  Rhine),  sails  slowly  along  the  stream  to 
Mentz,  and  reaches  home  again  in  the  best  possible 
humor.  In  enthusiastic  words  he  thanks  Madame  La- 
roche  for  the  kind  attention  he  has  received. 

No  hint  yet  of  those  moods  out  of  which,  after  Maxi- 
miliane's  appearance  in  Frankfort,  the  second  part  of 
"  Werther  "  arose.  Goethe  had  conceived  a  hearty  affection 
for  this  clever  and  fascinating  girl ;  but  she  was  so  young 
that  it  was  of  a  purely  brotherly  nature,  and  the  feeling 
never  changed.  The  circumstances,  however,  into  which 
Maximiliane  was  transplanted  in  Frankfort  were  of  so 
peculiar  a  kind,  that,  combined  with  the  impression  he 
had  already  received  in  "Wetzlar,  it  excited  ideas  in  his 
imagination  which  formed  the  romance.  Nothing  of  a 
thrilling  or  surprising  nature  happens,  however ;  things 
move  on  slowly,  and  the  effect  produced  upon  Goethe  is 
gradual. 

Between  him  and  the  Wetzlar  friends  no  shade  of  mis- 
understanding had  arisen.  Kestner  came  to  Frankfort 
in  September,  immediately  after  Goethe's  return  from 
his  visit  to  Madame  Laroche,  and  spent  most  of  his  time 
with  him.  He  departs.  Goethe's  letters  give  full  ac- 
counts of  the  distractions  of  his  life  in  Frankfort.  He  is 
active  in  helping  on  Schlosser's  engagement  to  his  sister, 
and  is  successful.  A  medley  of  men  press  around  him 
to  whom,  according  to  his  nature,  he  gives  himself  up 


HE  FALLS  INTO  MELANCHOLY.       135 

wholly ;  but  at  the  same  time  his  thoughts  are  wont  to 
turn  to  Wetzlar,  as  the  spot  where  stillness  and  peace 
reign.  He  sends,  from  time  to  time,  a  kind  of  journal 
or  leaves  from  his  diary,  indifferent  to  whom  they  go : 
they  are  addressed  simply  to  "  the  Kestners."  In  these 
letters  he  treats  of  himself  and  his  relation  to  Lotte  as  a 
continuous  romance,  but  one  that  does  not  bear  the  slight- 
est resemblance  to  the  "  Sorrows  of  Werther."  In  di- 
rect contradiction  to  this  his  outward  behavior  was  a 
certain  inward  mood,  revealed  to  no  one,  but  which 
might  have  been  guessed  by  putting  together  and  inter- 
preting certain  words  which  he  occasionally  dropped. 

When  Goethe  went  back  from  Wetzlar  to  Frankfort, 
he  shuddered  at  the  thought  of  the  life -to  which  he  was 
returning.  At  that  time  "Gb'tz"  had  not  been  worked 
over  for  the  press  ;  and  no  anticipation  of  his  later  fame 
animated  and  refreshed  him.  He  saw  himself  thrust 
anew  into  the  old  swamp,  in  which  it  was  insufferable  to 
wade  about.  He  felt  himself  above  Frankfort  society, 
and  hated  it.  He  hated  his  father's  house,  and  at  the 
same  time  could  not  do  without  it.  He  saw  his  only  con- 
fidant, his  sister  Cornelia,  through  her  engagement  to 
Schlosser,  already  in  a  certain  sense  separated  from  him ; 
and  so,  while  seeming  to  be  in  the  midst  of  life's  enjoy- 
ments, he  really  brooded  over  the  most  despairing 
thoughts.  Some  one  said  to  him,  at  that  time,  that  the 
curse  of  Cain  was  upon  him.  Goethe  relates  this  him- 
self. His  unstable  nature  was  alarmed  the  more  in 
proportion  as  he  was  led  to  criticise  it,  and  as  he  became 
convinced  that  there  was  no  remedy  for  it.  And  this 
reaches  so  high  a  point  that  he  actually  wrestles  with 
the  temptation  to  suicide  which  springs  up  within  him. 
While  in  this  frame  of  mind  the  news  reaches  him  that 
Jerusalem,  a  young  man  of  about  his  own  age,  and  who 


136  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

had  worked  as  he  had  in  the  Imperial  Chamber  at  Wetz 
lar,  had  shot  himself  out  of  disgust  with  life.  Kestner 
announces  it.  Kestner  had  lent  Jerusalem  the  pistols  ; 
and  the  note  in  which  they  were  asked  of  him,  having  been 
first  thrown  into  the  waste-paper  basket,  was  later  hunted 
out,  and  is  in  "  Goethe  and  Werther"  given  in  fac-simile. 
Goethe  describes  what  passed  before  his  fancy  when  he 
received  Kestner's  letter  telling  of  the  misfortune. 

Jerusalem  was  the  son  of  an  esteemed  and  renowned 
theologian.  He  had  studied  with  Goethe  in  Leipsic,  but 
never  made  much  impression  on  him.  Goethe  found  him 
again  in  the  Imperial  Court  at  Wetzlar ;  but  there,  also, 
they  were  only  distant  acquaintances.  Sundry  literary 
productions  of  Jerusalem's  had  been  published,  and 
among  them  a  letter  in  which  he  asserts  that  he  does 
not  like  Goethe.  Jerusalem  was  in  love  with  the  wife 
of  a  Wetzlar  official,  and  shot  himself  for  her  sake  in 
October,  1772,  —  a  month  after  Goethe  left  Wetzlar,  and 
under  circumstances  which  exactly  correspond  to  what 
we  find  related  in  "  W^erther." 

This  occurrence  struck  Goethe  like  a  thunderclap ;  but, 
from  reasons  which  had  little  to  do  with  Lotte  Buff,  nei- 
ther the  memory  of  her,  nor  even  that  of  Jerusalem,  is 
especially  awakened  in  his  soul  by  this  deed.  The  rea- 
sons why  it  took  such  hold  on  his  imagination  were  of  a 
deeper  and  more  personal  nature.  He  and  Jerusalem 
became  suddenly  one  and  the  same  person.  He  sees 
himself  as  in  a  mirror ;  and  at  the  same  time  Jerusa- 
lem's beloved  one  assumes  the  form  and  features  of  Lotte, 
and  he  and  she,  Werther  and  Lotte,  the  two  characters 
in  the  romance,  stand  before  Goethe  living  creations, 
divorced  from  himself,  —  two  finished  works  of  art. 

Now  begins  the  serious  work  of  the  fiction.  In  No- 
vember, a  business  journey  leads  him  to  Wetzlar.  He 


"THE  SOEROWS  OF  WERTHER"  BEGUN.     137 

sees  Lotte  again  ;  collects  exact  details  of  Jerusalem's 
character  and  death  ;  and  receives  from  Kestner,  after 
his  departure,  full  particulars  of  what  he  could  not  find 
out  on  the  spot.  The  idea  of  writing  a  romance  in  mem- 
ory of  Jerusalem  seems  now  to  have  become  a  fixed  plan. 
But  for  the  present  the  project  is  laid  aside  ;  the  vision 
slowly  faded  again,  as  wholly  other  subjects  claimed  his 
attention. 

At  first,  he  published  the  little  work  on  the  Strasburg 
cathedral ;  then,  in  the  beginning  of  1773,  he  prepared 
"  Gb'tz  "  for  the  press.  In  the  spring  Lotte  and  Kestner 
were  married,  with  Goethe's  friendly  sympathy.  He 
provided  the  rings,  and  took  upon  himself  many  other 
little  duties.  But  after  the  youthful  pair  went  to  Hanover 
longer  intervals  in  his  intercourse  with  them  naturally 
occurred.  Other  people  interested  him,  and  Goethe  had 
no  longer  as  a  necessity  to  fly  in  thought  for  repose  to  the 
"Deutsches  Haus"  at  Wetzlar.  Finally  "  Gdtz  "  ap- 
peared ;  the  fame  which  attended  it  turned  Goethe  in 
a  wholly  new  direction  and  roused  in  him  a  new  desire. 
Since  "  Gb'tz  "  had  inspired  so  much  admiration,  he  would 
write  something  which  far  exceeded  "  Gb'tz."  A  letter 
to  Kestner,  in  which  he  says  he  shall  find  it  difficult 
again  to  write  anything  which  will  elicit  so  much  ap- 
plause, indicates  that  even  then  the  idea  had  sprung  up 
in  his  mind.  On  the  loth  of  September,  almost  a  year 
after  Jerusalem's  death,  he  says  to  Kestner  in  a  letter : 
"  I  am  writing  a  romance ;  but  it  goes  slowly."  This 
must  have  been  "  Werther ; "  for  why  should  Goethe 
have  written  to  the  distant  Kestner  of  a  thing  only  just 
conceived,  to  whom  he  was  not  in  the  habit  of  speaking 
of  such  things  ?  Hints  like  this  are '  occasionally 
dropped ;  and,  in  the  winter  of  1774,  Merck  was  allowed 
to  see  the  work. 


138  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

The  success  of  "  Gtitz  "  had  a  decisive  influence  upon 
Goethe.  We  feel  it  directly  in  the  tone  of  his  corre- 
spondence. Goethe  had  gained  at  last  what  he  needed,  and 
the  want  of  which  had  made  him  so  restless, —  a  manifest 
right  to  lr*e  as  he  lived,  and  to  he  what  he  was.  Until 
then  he  had  been  forced  to  say  to  himself  that  he  antici- 
pated future  applause,  and  had  staked  a  considerable  sum 
upon  the  credit  of  his  coming  fame.  At  last  Fate  had 
opened  to  him  unlimited  credit.  Now  he  was  master  in 
his  own  house,  and  a  literary  career  was  before  him  as  a 
matter  of  course. 

In  spite  of  all  this,  however,  the  romance  did  not  pro- 
gress. The  elements  which  had  gathered  in  Goethe's 
experience  showed  a  void  which,  owing  to  his  peculiar 
tendency  to  nourish  his  fancy  only  from  the  fulness  of 
actual  life,  was  not  at  that  time  to  be  supplied.  A  suita- 
ble conclusion  for  the  second  part  of  the  romance  was 
wanting.  It  needed  to  take  a  certain  air  of  tragedy.  A 
type  for  Albert,  as  Lotte's  husband,  was  wanting.  Goethe 
knew  Kestner  only  as  a  lover,  and  had  never  seen  him 
jealous.  Goethe  would  only  write  what  he  had  experi- 
enced. His  experience,  indeed,  took  another  form  in  his 
mind ;  but  it  must  first  be  there.  Moreover,  he  had  not 
the  experience  to  enable  him  to  portray  Werther  as  the 
lover  of  a  married  woman ;  and  even  that  Goethe  could 
not  invent. 

But  now,  so  providential  was  the  disposition  of  things 
that  even  for  this  want  relief  was  vouchsafed.  A  mar- 
riage unexpectedly  took  place  which  especially  concerned 
Goethe.  Maximiliane  Laroche,  who  was  only  seventeen 
years  old,  became,  through  the  mediation  of  good  friends 
in  whose  eyes  favorable  outward  circumstances  were  the 
chief  consideration,  suddenly  engaged  and  married  to  the 
Frankfort  Brentano,  still  a  young  man,  but  a  widower 


"THE  SORROWS  OF  WERTHER  "  COMPLETED.     139 

with  five  children.  In  January,  1774,  the  marriage  was 
celebrated,  and  the  youthful '  pair,  accompanied  by  the 
bride's  mother,  came  to  Frankfort,  where  Goethe  was 
charged  with  the  burden  of  making  the  young  wife,  who 
was  yet  half  a  child,  enter  comfortably  into  the  life  of  a 
strange  city ;  indeed,  into  a  wholly  new  existence.  Max- 
imiliane  was  accustomed  to  intercourse  with  superior  men 
as  a  matter  of  course.  Her  husband  was  a  business  man 
in  the  strictest  sense  of  the  word,  and  besides  an  Italian. 
Goethe  foresaw  at  once  what  might  arise,  and  what  in 
very  deed  happened.  Brentano  became  jealous  to  such  a 
degree  that  Goethe,  who  had  been  influenced  by  no  other 
feeling  than  that  of  the  purest  benevolence,  made  an  end 
of  the  trouble  by  withdrawing,  notwithstanding  that 
Madame  Laroche  besought  him  not  to  give  up  visiting  her 
daughter.  But  before  this  had  happened,  even  in  the 
beginning  of  the  intercourse  and  before  the  jealousy  of 
the  man  had  exhibited  itself,  Goethe  had  foreseen  that  it 
must  come ;  and  the  second  part  of  Werther  stood  com- 
plete before  his  soul. 

The  denoument  of  the  plot  was  found.  Upon  Kest- 
ner's  tolerant  and  absolutely  trusting  nature  was  grafted 
that  of  the  suspicious  Italian  spouse  of  Maximiliane  ;  and 
from  this  union  came  the  insufferable  Albert  of  the 
romance,  who  afterward  caused  Kestner  so  much  grief, 
which  Goethe  then  sought  in  vain  to  allay.  Goethe  de- 
scribes these  circumstances  in  the  most  delicate  manner. 
He  saw  himself  implicated  in  Maximiliane's  house  in 
family  relations  in  which  his  heart  had  really  no  share. 
While  his  natural  kind-heartedness  would  not  allow  him 
to  break  off  with  them,  he  at  the  same  time  sought  an 
outlet  for  his  feelings,  and  finished  his  romance  ;  and  in 
April,  1774,  was  able  to  speak  of  it  in  his  letters  as  a  com- 
plete work,  the  reading  of  which  he  promised  his  friends. 


140  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 


LECTURE  VIII. 

"  WERTHER." 

TN  a  letter  of  Goethe's  to  Lavater  dated  April  26,  1774, 
•*-  we  read :  "  I  will  try  to  send  you  a  manuscript, 
which  will  not  be  printed  immediately.  You  will  sym- 
pathize greatly  with  the  sorrows  of  the  dear  boy  I  have 
described.  We  were  near  each  other  six  years  without 
being  drawn  very  close  together,  but  now  I  have  lent  to 
his  story  my  own  feelings,  making  a  strange  whole." 
Goethe  therefore  regarded  the  romance  as  follows :  The 
memory  of  the  unfortunate  boy  Jerusalem,  with  whose 
fate  he  feels  so  much  sympathy,  is  to  be  rescued  from  ob- 
livion, and  his  friends  are  informed  beforehand  that  the 
incidents  related  are  not  Goethe's  personal  experience. 
But  how  far  were  Lotte  and  her  husband  in  the  secret  ? 
Had  they  a  suspicion  of  what  was  before  them  ?  Here 
we  meet  with  a  curious  thing.  Goethe  cannot  find  it  in 
his  heart  to  be  silent  about  his  work  to  those  with  whom 
he  is  in  uninterrupted  confidential  communication,  but 
expresses  himself  in  such  terms  that  they  cannot  possi- 
bly understand  what  he  means.  If  Goethe  ever  needed 
any  consolation  on  Lotte's  account,  in  the  year  1773 
when  he  began  his  romance  he  had  certainly  ceased  to 
mourn  her  loss.  Both  she  and  Kestner,  through  their 
removal  to  Hanover,  had  become  to  him  half-mythical 
beings.  It  has  often  been  charged  against  Goethe  that 


OUT   OF    SIGHT,    OUT    OF    MIND?  141 

the  proverb,  "  Out  of  sight,  out  of  mind,"  fitted  him  only 
too  well.  He  openly  confesses  that  those  with  whom  he 
did  not  live  in  actual  propinquity  scarcely  existed  for  him. 
This  indeed  did  not  apply  to  persons  especially  dear  to 
his  heart,  as  his' correspondence  sufficiently  testifies.  Yet, 
te  have  his  friends  live  vividly  in  his  imagination,  he 
needed  an  actual  sight  of  their  surroundings.  If  a  back- 
ground of  landscape  was  wanting,  the  outlines  of  the 
people  began  to  grow  misty.  Lotte  Buff  in  Wetzlar  in 
the  "  Deutsches  Haus,"  or  in  the  streets  of  the  city,  al- 
ways surrounded  in  her  walks  by  the  well-known  horizon, 
was  quite  another  being  to  Goethe  from  Lotte  Kestner  in 
Hanover,  a  North  German  city  with  which  he  was  unac- 
quainted. Separated  from  her  home,  her  father,  her 
brothers  and  sisters,  Lotte  lost  more  and  more  the  power 
to  draw  Goethe's  thoughts  to  herself.  He  found  ever  less 
and  less  to  confide  to  her  and  Kestner  in  his  letters. 
They  were  happy,  and  did  not  need  him.  What  stirred 
his  emotions  was  now  confided  to  other  correspondents, 
to  new  friends  to  whom  he  was  indebted  for  fresh  experi- 
ences. Lotte  had  become  historic  to  him. 

But  now  the  working  on  the  romance  renews  the  old 
feeling :  it  is  amazing  how  the  dry  leaves  and  stiff,  hard 
blossoms  of  the  summer  of  1772  come  to  life  again  in  his 
fantasy.  In  a  letter  of  March,  1774,  he  writes  to  ijie 
Kestners  that  their  letters  had  indeed  remained  unan- 
swered, but  that  his  thoughts  had  been  busier  than  ever 
with  Lotte.  "  I  shall  soon  have  it  [the  romance]  printed 
for  you  he  says ;  it  is  good,  my  dearest."  In  the  same 
measure  in  which  the  growing  work  compelled  him,  as  it 
were,  to  renew  his  acquaintance  with  Lotte  as  a  young 
maiden,  and  to  mount  once  more  by  slow  steps  the  entire 
scale  of  his  feelings  for  her,  she  rises  before  him  more 
beautiful  and  enchanting  than  perhaps  he  had  ever  seen 


142  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

her  in  reality ;  and  he  naturally  transfers  all  these  imag- 
inary charms  to  Lotte  Kestner,  whom  he  must  always 
think  of  as  the  young  maiden  he  left  in  Wetzlar.  But 
now  the  real  Lotte  puts  Goethe's  imagination  to  the 
severest  test :  she  expects  a  child.  In  the  mean  time, 
the  Lotte  of  the  romance  was  already  so  strongly  thrown 
on  the  canvas  that  the  living  reality  could  not  change 
those  ideal  outlines.  It  was  far  more  difficult  to  over- 
come another  trouble.  Lotte's  picture  in  the  romance 
was  too  manifestly  a  likeness.  Goethe  had  made  the 
persons  and  events  too  realistically  exact.  The  public  at 
that  time  had  little  other  excitement  than  that  derived 
from  new  books  and  fresh  family  scandals  ;  and  here  the 
two  were  united.  Goethe  was  aware  beforehand  what 
would  be  the  result.  He  was  resolved  not  to  be  misled 
by  these  fears ;  but  his  friendship  for  the  Kestners 
seemed  to  demand  that  he  should  not  proceed  without 
at  least  giving  them  a  hint  of  what  was  before  them. 
This  he  does  in  the  most  peculiar  manner. 

In  May,  1774,  Lotte's  first  son  was  born,  who  from 
over-scrupulousness  was  not  even  to  bear  the  name  of 
Wolfgang.  Goethe  was  seeking  a  publisher  for  "  Wer- 
ther,"  which,  if  tradition  be  correct,  had  been  refused  by 
a  Leipsic  bookseller.  He  writes  to  Kestner :  "  Kiss  for 
me  the  boy  and  the  immortal  Lotte ;  say  to  her  that  I 
cannot  imagine  her  in  childbed  :  it  is  simply  impossible. 
I  see  her  always  as  I  left  her;  neither  do  I  know  you  as  a 
married  man  or  in  any  other  relation  than  the  old  one. 
And  now  I  have  utilized  a  chance  to  follow  out  and  patch 
up  other  people's  passions,  at  which  I  beg  you  not  to  take 
offence.  I  pray  you  let  this  enclosed  chit-chat  rest  until 
you  have  heard  something  further  :  time  will  explain  all." 
It  was  scarcely  possible  to  express  anything  more  myste- 
riously, and  Kestner  could  only  wait  for  time  to  reveal  its 


EFFECT  OF  "WERTHER"  ON  THE  KESTNERS.  143 

meaning.  In  the  next  letter,  dated  the  llth  of  May,  we 
find  another  allusion:  "Adieu,  you  people  whom  I  hold  so 
dear!  (so  dear  that  I  had  to  lend  and  adapt  the  fulness 
of  my  own  love  to  the  dream-picture  of  the  misfortune  of 
our  friend.)  The  parenthesis  is  to  remain  sealed  until 
further  notice."  This  parenthesis  was  even  less  compre- 
hensible than  the  former.  And  now  for  a  long  time 
nothing  follows ;  but  at  last  on  the  16th  of  June  a  letter 
ends  with  the  words :  "  Adieu,  dear  Lotte !  I  shall  soon 
send  you  a  friend  who  much  resembles  me ;  and  I  hope 
you  will  receive  him  well.  His  name  is  '  Werther ; '  and 
he  is  and  was  what  he  shall  tell  you  himself."  Goethe 
with  this  seems  to  have  unburdened  his  conscience,  and 
believed  he  had  done  enough.  The  following  letters  coiir 
tain  nothing  more  about  his  work.  Three  months  later, 
on  the  23d  of  September,  he  sends  Lotte  the  completed 
book.  She  is  to  show  it  to  no  one.  At  the  Leipsic  fair  it 
is  to  be  offered  to  the  public.  "  I  wish,"  he  writes,  "each 
of  you  to  read  it  alone, — you  alone,  and  Kestner  alone, — 
and  then  each  of  you  write  me  a  few  words."  Goethe 
seems  so  convinced  that  both  of  them  will  find  heavenly 
enjoyment  in  the  book,  that  he  quite  ignores  the  pos- 
sibility that  it  may  be  otherwise.  We  have  not  Kest- 
ner's  letter  to  Goethe,  in  which  his  feelings  and  his  wife's 
on  the  first  reading  of  the  book  are  expressed  ;  only  a  part 
of  the  rough-draft  of  a  letter  has  been  found,  couched  in 
the  most  unvarnished  language.  Goethe's  reply  to  it,  alas ! 
lacks  a  date ;  so  that  we  cannot  know  whether  he  wrote 
immediately,  or  after  a  lapse  of  time.  The  storm  came 
upon  him  not  unexpectedly.  He  begs  to  be  forgiven,  but 
not  very  earnestly.  No  sound  of  the  enormous  European 
applause  had,  indeed,  at  that  time  reached  him ;  but  he 
is  filled  with  a  consciousness  of  the  power  of  his  work, 
compared  with  which  Kestner's  resentment  is  of  little 


144  LIFE    AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

account.  And  it  is  remarkable  how  soon  this  feeling 
predominates  with  the  Kestners  also.  However  much 
they  may  feel  themselves  injured  or  aggrieved,  they  are 
even  more  sensible  that  he  has  shown  them  an  honor  far 
exceeding  their  deserts.  Kestner,  indeed,  might  seem  to 
have  a  right  to  feel  wounded  by  the  intolerable  part  Al- 
bert plays  in  the  romance  ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  it  was 
manifest  that  at  the  time  Jerusalem  shot  himself,  and 
also  when  Goethe  saw  Lotte  for  the  last  time,  she  was 
still  unmarried.  This  with  all  desirable  clearness  proved 
Albert's  character  in  the  romance  to  be  a  fiction,  not- 
withstanding the  fact  that  Kestner  lent  Jerusalem  the 
pistols  with  which  the  poor  wretch  shot  himself.  And, 
more  than  all  this,  the  Lotte  who  is  raised  above  all  ide- 
alized beings  in  the  romance  was  now  in  very  truth  his 
wife.  In  Lotte  Goethe  had  atoned  for  any  injustice  to 
Kestner :  what  he  was  deprived  of  himself  was  restored 
to  him  in  his  wife ;  for  although  Lotte  Kestner  had  fair 
hair  and  blue  eyes,  while  the  Lotte  of  the  romance  had 
black,  still  there  could  be  no  doubt  that  Kestner's  wife 
and  Werther's  Lotte  were  one  and  the  same  person. 

Kestner  had  a  friend,  to  whom  from  time  to  time  he 
unburdened  his  soul.  To  him  he  now  poured  out  his 
whole  heart.  We  see  that  all  the  Hanover  gossip  had 
broken  out  over  the  young  married  pair,  —  a  beautiful 
woman,  a  stranger  and  a  South  German,  for  whose  sake 
a  young  Brunswick  man  had  shot  himself ;  and  the  most 
renowned  poet  of  Germany  who  has  told  the  story  in  all 
its  details.  "With  such  an  inextricable  mixture  of  truth 
and  fiction  a  statement  of  how  things  really  were  seems 
almost  impossible.  They  must  just  let  the  storm  pass 
by  :  enough  if  only  the  most  intimate  friends  can  be  made 
to  understand  clearly  the  relation  which  existed.  More- 
over, it  was  a  powerful  antidote  for  this  grievance  that 


THE    TRUE    POET'S    PRIVILEGE.  145 

Lotte  soon  appeared  surrounded  with  such  a  halo  that 
Kestner,  the  fortunate  man  who  in  the  first  place  had  won 
Lotte,  and  in  the  second  now  possessed  her,  could  take 
a  right  royal  share  of  this  glory  to  himself.  He  writes 
of  Goethe  to  a  friend,  and  treats  the  whole  subject  with 
the  most  delicate  consideration ;  indeed,  he  seems  most 
anxious  that  nothing  should  reach  Goethe's  ears  which 
might  sound  in  the  least  like  complaint  on  their  part. 

How  do  we  view  Goethe's  conduct  ? 

An  author  who  insinuates  himself  into  the  confidence 
of  a  family  in  order  to  obtain  material  for  literature  de- 
grades his  profession.  A  poet,  on  the  contrary,  who  is 
urged  forward  by  the  unconscious  inspiration  of  genius, 
cannot  allow  external  considerations  to  repress  what 
wells  up  in  his  fancy  because  it  may  happen  to  coincide 
with  actual  events.  Here,  however,  two  objections  occur : 
first,  what  are  the  distinctive  characteristics  of  such  a 
poet?  —  and  here  feeling  alone  can  decide  ;  secondly,  gov- 
erned as  we  are  at  present  by  the  idea  that  high  and  low 
should  be  measured  by  the  same  standard,  is  it  not  very 
difficult  for  us  to  admit  of  any  exceptions  ?  Here,  how- 
ever, it  is  we  who  make  the  exceptions  and  not  the  poet, 
who  seems  to  offend  against  the  law.  Were  we  as  we 
should  be,  then  all  human  relations  might  be  exposed 
without  reserve.  Any  misunderstandings,  any  suspicions 
would  be  impossible  :  the  pure  would  be  pure  to  all,  and 
the  spurious  would  be  rejected  by  all.  How  spotless  are 
the  hands  with  which  Shakspeare  unfolds  the  most  fright- 
ful crimes  before  us !  A  true  poet  goes  through  the 
world  like  a  child,  who  knows  of  no  secrets,  and  with 
innocent  lips  repeats  the  most  horrible  things,  never  sus- 
pecting with  what  he  is  dealing.  What  decides  our  ques- 
tion is  the  conviction  we  have  as  to  what  the  poet 
intended.  In  the  Lotte  of  his  romance  Goethe  has  given 

10 


146  LIFE    AND  TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

us  an  ideal  creation  whose  beauty  alone  elevates  his 
work  above  all  reproach.  In  Albert  he  describes  a  char- 
acter whose  disagreeable  qualities  owe  their  origin  solely 
to  the  aesthetic  demand  for  artistic  contrast ;  but  there 
is  absolutely  nothing  to  show  that  he  meant  it  for  Kest- 
ner.  How  true  this  is  was  proved  afterward,  when  Goe- 
the, out  of  regard  for  Kestner,  sought  to  modify  Albert's 
character,  but  gained  nothing  with  all  his  softening  of 
single  features.  We  know  what  was  intended  in  the  per- 
son of  Werther.  These  three  beings,  owing  to  a  singu- 
lar combination  of  events,  were  created,  perfected,  and 
matured  in  Goethe's  soul,  and  finally,  as  if  by  force, 
thrust  into  the  light. 

I  should  not  have  needed  to  follow  the  course  of  things 
which  were  the  outward  incentives  to  the  romance,  if  the 
knowledge  of  these  details  had  not  been  so  essential  to 
an  ultimate  moral  decision  in  regard  to  it.  If  Goethe  had 
not  undertaken  the  work  with  a  pure  conscience,  plain 
innocent  people  like  the  Kestners  would  never  have 
spoken  of  him  behind  his  back  with  such  high  esteem. 
In  Kestner's  letters,  for  instance,  in  which  he  gives  his 
friend  some  account  of  the  real  relation  on  which  the 
romance  was  founded,  we  find  the  remark,  before  quoted, 
that  Goethe  in  truth  behaved  much  more  magnanimously 
than  the  romance  would  lead  us  to  believe.  The  outward 
satisfaction  of  his  vanjty,  to  which  I  have  alluded,  would 
never  have  been  able  to  take  the  sting  out  of  the  wound 
in  such  a  straightforward,  honest  heart  as  Kestner's,  if 
the  poison  had  once  entered  it. 

In  fact  the  gossip  soon  died  out.  The  public  cared  lit- 
tle for  Albert,  and  all  the  interest  centred  in  Werther. 
With  most  convincing  reality  the  unhappy  man  stands 
before  their  eyes,  surveying  the  misery  of  this  temporal 
world  of  which  he  is  still  a  part ;  who  like  Hamlet  is  too 


NAPOLEON   EEADS    "  WERTHER."  147 

much  in  the  sun  ;  to  whom  no  opportunity  offers  for  a 
great  deed  until  he  makes  himself  the  object  of  it ;  and 
who,  maddened  by  a  hopeless  passion,  feels  growing 
within  him  an  insane  propensity  to  criticise  himself 
even  to  the  finest  fibres  of  his  nature,  until  at  last  he 
can  endure  it  no  longer.  Whither  could  Werther  have 
flown  ?  Every  young  man  at  that  time  who  turned  his 
thoughts  in  upon  himself  acknowledged  something  Wer- 
therian  in  his  own  nature.  He  saw  the  history  of  his 
innermost  feelings  written  by  a  stranger,  who  knew  them 
better  than  himself.  And  this  was  not  alone  the  experi- 
ence among  the  Germans ;  but,  wherever  the  romance 
forced  its  way,  it  awakened  the  same  emotions.  How 
was  it  that  Werther  and  Lotte,  two  radical  German  nat- 
ures, were  understood  by  French,  Italian,  and  English  as 
if  they  were  of  Celtic,  Roman,  or  Norman-Saxon  origin  ? 
It  is  known  that  Napoleon  when  a  young  man  had  read 
"  Werther,"  and  probably,  knew  no  other  of  Goethe's 
works  ;  so  that  it  must  have  been  on  this  account  alone 
that  he  asked  to  have  Goethe  presented  to  him,  as  the 
greatest  German  poet,  when  he  hurried  triumphantly 
through  Germany. 

I  have  proposed  these  questions,  because  their  answer 
will  direct  our  attention  to  an  element  contained  in  the 
romance,  and  in  the  characters  figuring  in  it,  which  until 
now  has  been  too  much  overlooked.  Tims  far,  I  have 
only  considered  Goethe's  personal  relations  as  possible 
sources  of  the  romance.  I  have  tried  to  explain  the  sort 
of  persons  it  was  necessary  Goethe  should  come  in  contact 
with,  to  shape  in  his  imagination  Werther,  Lotte,  and 
Albert.  No  doubt  these  persons  were  indispensable,  but 
it  needed  co-operation  from  another  direction  to  cause 
them  to  take  root  in  his  imagination ;  or,  to  express  it 
more  clearly,  these  persons  only  blended  with  something 


148  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

which  already  existed  in  Goethe's  soul.  Werther  may 
present  ever  so  clearly  Goethe's  ideas  and  the  fate  of 
Jerusalem,  still  the  combination  of  the  two  would  not 
have  been  sufficient  to  create  Werther.  Even  before 
Goethe  went  to  Wetzlar,  before  he  knew  Lotte  and  Kest- 
ner,  and  Maximiliane  and  Brentano  and  Jerusalem,  there 
already  lay  outlined  in  his  soul  the  poetic  possibility  of 
Werther :  not  as  Goethe's  creation,  but  as  that  of  an- 
other poet,  from  whose  dove-cot  he  had  stolen  a  brood  of 
young  birds  to  send  out  into  the  world  as  his  own.  And 
this  leads  us,  beyond  the  limits  of  personal  experience, 
to  the  universal  literary  experience  of  modern  nations. 

It  was  essential  to  a  full  understanding  of  "  Gotz 
von  Berlichingen,"  to  examine  cursorily  the  history  of 
the  drama.  In  treating  of  the  novel  we  must  pursue 
the  same  method,  with  only  this  difference,  that  we  are 
not  obliged  to  trouble  ourselves  with  antiquity  ;  since  the 
novel  is  a  modern  production,  consequent  on  the  inven- 
tion of  the  art  of  printing.  It  is  essential  to  the  idea  of 
the  novel  that  it  is  to  be  printed,  widely  circulated,  and 
read  by  many  people  at  the  same  time,  though  by  each 
for  himself. 

To  comprehend  fully  an  artistic  work  we  must  have  in 
view  two  parties,  —  the  artist  who  produces  and  offers  the 
work,  and  the  nation  who  receives  and  enjoys  it.  A 
drama  would  be  inconceivable,  if  we  should  speak  only  of 
the  poet  and  the  actors,  omitting  the  public  gathered  to- 
gether for  mutual  enjoyment,  who  on  the  spot  bestow 
praise  or  censure.  We  have  seen  in  "  Gotz  "  of  what 
decided  importance  the  nature  of  the  theatre  public  in 
Germany  was  to  the  German  stage,  and  how  it  led  to  the 
creation  of  dramas  merely  intended  for  reading ;  while 
in  France  and  other  countries  where  the  public  was  dif- 
ferent, nothing  of  the  kind  is  to  be  observed.  Now  as 


THE   NOVEL   AND   THE   NATIONAL    EPIC.      149 

the  reading-drama  is  to  the  stage-drama,  so  is  the  novel 
to  the  national  epic.  The  novel  arose  in  Europe,  when 
a  series  of  external  circumstances  had  made  the  reception 
and  enjoyment  of  the  national  epic  on  the  part  of  the 
people  an  impossibility,  while  yet  the  need  remained  for 
mutual  enjoyment  in  narrative  fictions.  All  nations  re- 
quire food  for  their  imagination  ;  like  children,  the  people 
must  have  their  fables.  We  like  to  be  told  marvellous 
tales  in  which  every  one  can  sympathize.  Not  only  do 
we  wish  to  hear  them  for  our  own  part,  but  we  like 
to  feel  that  others  are  hearing  them  as  well.  Not  the 
mere  fact  that  Homer  was  a  great  poet,  and  that  it 
was  a  joy  to  listen  to  his  songs,  accounted  for  his 
influence  over  the  Greeks ;  but  it  was  quite  as  much 
due  to  the  fact  that  he  was  equally  at  home  in  every 
part  of  his  fatherland,  and  that  the  people  came  to- 
gether in  great  masses  the  better  and  more  fully  to 
be  entertained  by  his  poems. 

The  national  epic,  which  had  ruled  the  antique  world 
in  the  so-called  Middle  Ages,  disappeared  when  an  easier 
and  safer  way  for  the  people's  simultaneous  enjoyment 
of  a  poem  was  made  by  the  art  of  printing.  The  funda- 
mental distinction  between  the  national  epic  and  the 
novel  lies  in  the  different  way  in  which  these  ideal  cre- 
ations, otherwise  essentially  the  same,  are  presented  to 
the  public.  To  the  enjoyment  of  the  national  epic  it 
was  essential  that  the  people  should  assemble  at  certain 
places  and  definite  times  in  order  to  participate  in  it. 
This  was  not  essential  for  the  novel.  Neither  poet  nor 
public  are  here  necessarily  visible,  nor  do  they  know  each 
other.  In  some  place,  which  nobody  needs  to  know,  is 
seated  the  poet,  whom  nobody  needs  to  see  or  hear.  In 
solitude  he  prepares  his  work,  while  his  public  spreads 
over  an  enormous  circle  around  him,  each  one  alone  and 


150  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

invisible  alike  to  poet  and  companion,  with  his  eyes  riv- 
.eted  on  the  printed  page,  drinking  in  the  thoughts  and 
images  it  contains.  To  make  the  novel  possible  there 
must  be  a  poet  to  write  it,  booksellers  to  circulate  it,  and 
people  to  read  it.  When  these  conditions  are  fulfilled,  the 
national  epic  exists  only  for  those  who  cannot  read,  and 
becomes  the  entertainment  of  beggars  and  peasants-,  or 
forms  the  material  lor  the  fables  among  dairy-maids  and 
in  children's  nurseries. 

This  quiet  intellectual  enjoyment  —  always  accompa- 
nied, however,  by  the  feeling  that  many  others  were  read- 
ing this  same  book,  at  the  same  time  —  first  appeared 
among  modern  nations  in  Italy,  then  in  Spain  and  France, 
and  later  in  England  and  Germany.  This  order  corre- 
sponds to  the  succession  of  the  brilliant  eras  of  romantic  lit- 
erature in  the  different  countries.  In  respect  to  Italy,  the 
novel  did  not  develop  there  as  one  would  have  naturally 
expected.  We  observed  the  same  in  regard  to  the  drama 
in  Italy.  At  the  time  when  romance-literature  became 
an  important  element  in  the  book-trade  of  Europe,  the 
prostrate  political  condition  of  Italy  had  reduced  literature 
there  to  a  mere  plaything.  All  earnest  feeling  expressed 
itself  in  music,  for  the  novel  had  not  power  enough  to 
overthrow  the  form  of  the  national  epic.  Ariosto  and 
Tasso  were  novel  writers,  whose  works  however  did  not 
get  beyond  the  form  of  the  old  epic.  Spain  was  a  wholly 
different  soil.  There  poems  were  not  recited,  but  read. 
In  stillness  and  alone  men  pored  over  their  romances, 
as  Cervantes  represents  Don  Quixote  brooding  over  his 
books.  An  incredible  rage  for  reading,  and  an  equally 
strong  conviction  that  all  they  read  was  true,  prevailed 
in  the  sixteenth  century  among  the  people  of  Spain.  I 
am  indebted  for  these  observations  to  the  work  of  the 
American  Ticknor,  who  has  written  the  best  history  of 


ENGLISH  NOVELS  IN  THE  18TH  CENTURY.  151 

Spanish  literature.  This  faith  is  especially  necessary,  if 
narrative-literature  is  to  flourish.  To  the  Spanish  ro- 
mance-literature succeeded  the  French.  When  Goethe 
appeared,  the  literary  life  of  Spain  had  long  been  ex- 
hausted, while  that  of  the  French  was  tending  towards  its 
decline.  In  England,  on  the  contrary,  it  was  in  its  full 
glory.  What  has  been  said  of  the  drama  might  in  regard 
to  England  be  said  of  the  novel.  In  the  handling  of  the 
material  the  two  literary  forms  now  move  on  in  the  same 
direction.  I  need,  therefore,  only  repeat  in  a  few  words 
what  has  been  already  said  of  their  development. 

About  the  middle  of  the  last  century  novels  of  Eng- 
lish family-life  began  to  fill  a  leading  position  in  European 
literature.  We  saw  what  a  sensation  Goldsmith's  "Vicar 
of  Wakefield  "  made,  when  it  was  read  aloud  by  Herder 
to  the  students  of  Strasburg,  after  having  read  it  three 
times  to  himself.  The  English  novel  not  only  reached 
Germany  in  the  direct  way,  but  through  France  also. 
Diderot  had  helped  us  to  appreciate  the  sterling  form  of 
the  English  drama ;  but,  to  affect  our  romance-literature, 
came  a  mightier  than  he,  —  Rousseau. 

The  English  had  simpler  aims  than  the  French  authors. 
They  delineated  noble  characters  to  challenge  imitation  ; 
bad  ones  to  repel  and  disgust ;  humorous  ones  to  enter- 
tain and  amuse.  The  most  prominent  of  the  English  novel 
writers  of  that  time  was  Richardson.  Gellert  called  the 
British  Richardson  ("  der  britte  Richardson  ")  the  great- 
est benefactor  of  mankind.  In  his  verses  'To  Inno- 
cence," written  in  Leipsic,  Goethe  says,  "  More  rare  and 
ideal  than  Byron  and  Pamela,"  —  these  two  being  the 
hero  and  heroine  of  Richardson's  novel  "  Pamela,"  which 
had  appeared  in  1780.  No  higher  conception  existed  at 
that  time  of  a  virtuous  pair.  In  his  epistle  to  Frederika 
Oeser  in  1768  Goethe  reproves  the  Leipsic  maidens,  — 


152  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

"  Who  will  not  one  of  them  submit 
To  be  Sir  Charles'  devoted  slave  ; 

And,  blindlings  still,  will  not  admit 
All  the  Dictator's  teachings  brave. 

But  sneer  and  jeer,  and  run  away, 

And  hear  no  more  he  has  to  say." 

"  Sir  Charles  Grandison,"  published  in  1753,  was  Rich- 
ardson's most  celebrated  romance.  The  hero  is  a  huge 
compendium  of  noble  qualities,  in  whose  possible  existence 
every  one  firmly  believed.  My  uncle  Jacob  used  to  tell 
me  of  having,  as  a  child,  seen  his  mother  absorbed  in 
reading  "  Sir  Charles  Grandison."  And  such  reading  was 
no  trifling  matter ;  it  required  much  time  and  thought. 
These  romances  came  like  great  events  into  our  life, 
which  at  that  time  had  little  to  do  with  political  agita- 
tions. The  translations  spread  in  every  direction  among 
us.  The  marvellously  broad  and  plain  treatment  of  uni- 
versally-useful and  well-understood  moral  problems  made 
a  thorough  knowledge  of  these  romances  almost  a  duty 
as  well  as  an  enjoyment.  There  seemed  to  be  no  more 
agreeable  way  of  appropriating  to  oneself  a  life  experi- 
ence of  the  noblest  kind  than  this  convenient  and  most 
innocent  one.  Romances  of  this  kind  proved  the  best 
form  in  which  to  comprise  all  that  might  be  conducive  to 
genuine  moral  training.  They  came  in  as  a  supplement 
when  the  sermon  from  the  pulpit  had  not  fulfilled  its 
task  ;  and  for  this  reason  a  great  number  of  the  romance 
writers  belonged  to  the  clerical  profession. 

Farther  the  English  and  Germans  did  not  go  :  the 
French  must  usurp  the  novel,  as  they  had  the  drama,  be- 
fore it  could  attain  its  rank  and  become  a  vehicle  for  the 
discussion  of  social  problems.  In  1760  Rousseau's  "  Nou- 
velle  Heloise"  appeared,  and  in  1762  his  "  Emile,"  —  two 
didactic  romances  which  caused  a  tremendous  excitement 


EOUSSEAU'S  "HELOISE"  AND  "  EMILE."    153 

in  Europe.  The  English  romances  had  entertained  and 
interested  men ;  Rousseau  seized  and  convulsed  them : 
the  publication  of  these  two  works  is  the  most  important 
event  in  the  history  of  modern  literature.  Enchanting 
debates  over  virtue  and  innocence  are  introduced  into  the 
midst  of  the  corrupt  French  world.  Paris  was  not  the 
chief  scene  of  the  events  described,  nor  was  it  indeed  a 
Parisian  who  described  them.  It  was  provincial  French 
life  colored  with  unusual  intensity  and  filled  with  sensu- 
ous vigor  :  people  were  beside  themselves.  Rousseau  rose 
as  a  great  moral  prophet  and  reformer.  The  romance 
acquired,  through  him,  new  and  unsuspected  honors. 
Richardson  had  written  entertaining  books  for  women, 
in  which  the  tendency  to  a  pulpit  tone  and  the  broad 
illustrations  calculated  for  moderate  understandings  were 
conspicuous  features.  Rousseau  raises  inevitable  prob- 
lems, treats  of  questions  which  men  and  philosophers 
acknowledge  to  be  the  most  important  of  the  age,  and 
solves  them  by  the  most  radical  discussions,  yet  as  easily 
as  if  he  were  at  play.  Not  the  critical  intellect  which 
may  err,  but  the  sensitive  heart  which  is  always  perfectly 
sure  of  itself,  is  constituted  judge  over  the  question  of  the 
moral  order  of  the  world.  Nobody  was  found  to  rebel 
against  these  things.  It  is  marvellous  how  clearly  we  see 
all  this  to-day.  As  poems,  Rousseau's  two  works  can  no 
longer  be  enjoyed.  They  contain  an  almost  mechanical 
series  of  letters  and  debates,  in  which  the  questions  of 
the  age  are  passionately  discussed.  The  characters  are 
not  real,  not  artistically  finished  creations,  but  are  every- 
where simply  tools  to  serve  a  purpose.  But  at  the  time 
nobody  perceived  this.  The  world  admired  St.  Preux 
and  Julie  as  glorious  representatives  of  the  ideas  which 
stirred  the  age,  and  they  believed  in  them  as  they  had  in 
Richardson's  creations.  Their  highest  wish  was  to  feel 


154  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

as  these  souls  felt  and  to  see  the  world  as  they  saw  it. 
The  air  which  Goethe  breathed  was  filled  with  Rousseau's 
spirit ;  and  we  have  only  to  compare  Werther  and  Lotte 
with  St.  Preux  and  Julie  to  be  convinced  that  without  the 
latter  the  former  would  never  have  been  created. 

Werther's  distinguishing  characteristic,  which  even 
before  the  unhappy  passion  for  Lotte  seized  him  had 
marked  him  as  the  spoil  of  fate,  was  the  place  he  gave 
himself  outside  of  humanity.  Werther  is  an  alien  not 
from  mankind,  but  from  corrupt  human  relations.  He 
knows  how  to  read  the  most  delicate  emotions  of  every 
heart,  but  reads  them  only  to  pass  by  with  a  shake  of  the 
hea<jl.  The  idea  of  labor,  as  we  now  understand  it,  is 
unknown  to  him ;  he  eats  and  drinks,  dresses  like  a  gen- 
tleman and  criticises.  The  world  is  too  miserable  to  sug- 
gest to  a  mind  like  his  any  other  occupation.  Floating 
high  in  the  air  above  churches  and  palaces,  he  contem- 
plates, with  the  disconsolate  look  of  an  eagle,  all  that  hap- 
pens beneath.  The  worthiest  conceivable  employment  for 
the  highly  educated  at  that  time  was  to  be  discontented 
with  everything,  and  to  find  sufficient  reason  for  this  dis- 
content ;  to  take  offence  at  all  human  regulations,  w'ith- 
out  making  the  slightest  attempt  to  oppose  or  alter  them. 
St.  Preux  loves  the  daughter  of  a  man  whose  pride  in 
his  pedigree  cannot  conceive  the  possibility  of  such  an 
alliance,  and  out  of  this  impossibility  grows  the  tragic 
fate  of  all  the  characters.  •  I  would  remind  you  how  Wer- 
ther came  in  contact  with  these  class  prejudices.  In  the 
beginning  of  the  story  Werther  accidentally  finds  himself 
in  an  evening  party  of  nobles,  who  without  any  ill  feeling 
toward  him  do  not  treat  him  as  one  of  themselves,  which 
obliges  him  to  leave  the  company.  Some  centuries  earlier 
these  distinctions  were  much  more  sharply  defined  in 
Europe ;  but  no  one  thought  of  such  a  thing  even  then  as 


THE  ENGLISH  AND  THE  FRENCH  NOVEL.   155 

looking  at  them  from  the  sentimental  point  of  view.  The 
lowest  servant  in  the  castle  loves  the  Princess.  "  What ! " 
cries  the  old  king,  "  the  groom  would  marry  my  daugh- 
ter ?  Kick  him  out ! "  "  Ha,  ha ! "  cries  the  groom,  as  he 
picks  up  his  bones,  outside  the  castle,  "  does  the  King 
think  this  is  to  end  the  matter?  "  He  goes  away,  conquers 
a  kingdom,  presents  himself  once  more  with  his  prize,  and 
the  nuptials  are  celebrated.  So  things  went  in  the  old 
fairy  tales  and  poetry  up  to  the  time  of  Rousseau.  Im- 
possibilities are  accepted ;  but  the  true  hero  fights  his  way 
through  all  obstacles,  and  at  last  Heaven  intervenes  by  a 
miracle.  In  the  English  romance  the  lord  finally  marries 
the  poor  maiden  from  among  the  people,  as  in  the  fash- 
ionable novel  of  to-day  he  is  made  to  marry  the  gover- 
ness. Every  hero  who  is  poor,  or  in  an  inferior  position 
in  the  English  novels,  if  things  end  happily,  has  unexpect- 
edly bestowed  upon  him  an  inheritance  which  raises  him 
at  once  among  the  peers  of  the  realm.  In  England  this 
gives  the  greatest  satisfaction :  intellectual  merit,  and  at 
last  solid  gold  and  position  added  thereto.  The  English 
have  never  at  any  period  allowed  sentimentality  to  invade 
this  field.  Rousseau,  on  the  contrary,  whose  own  history 
is  known,  formed  the  new  hero  of  romance  in  his  own 
image,  who  in  order  to  be  happy  would  have  needed  a 
newly-arranged  and  wholly  different  world.  Tossed  about 
in  the  wildest  despair ;  losing  himself  deeper  and  deeper  in 
unsolvable  problems,  while  pronouncing  at  the  same  time 
the  clearest,  truest,  and  most  startling  opinions  concern- 
ing things  in  all  directions ;  evincing  the  keenest  discri- 
mination, always  separating  the  kernel  from  the  shell 
(without  indeed  caring  to  enjoy  it) ;  and,  lastly,  possess- 
ing for  the  expression  of  all  this  mental  agony  a  language 
worthy  the  highest  admiration,  —  such  was  Rousseau's 
St.  Preux,  long  before  Werther  was  thought  of. 


156  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

The  heroes  of  the  "  Nouvelle  He"loise"  and  of  Goethe's 
romance,  if  their  silhouettes  could  be  placed  side  by  side, 
would  be  found  to  coincide  line  to  line.  If  St.  Preux 
and  Werther  had  met  in  life,  they  would  have  regarded 
each  other  with  the  terror  with  which  one  meets  his 
double.  St.  Preux  placed  in  Werther's  circumstances 
would  have  met  them  in  the  same  way,  and  would  have 
been  equally  incapable  of  taking  the  initiative  in  any 
situation  however  insignificant.  The  motive  power  in 
both  is  dependent  upon  what  the  world  does,  or  what 
those  about  them  do ;  and,  left  to  themselves,  they  are 
utterly  incapable  of  taking  a  step  either  forward  or  back- 
ward. As  soon  as  it  is  clear  to  us  with  what  logical 
consistency  everything  in  Werther's  nature  and  fate  is 
the  result  of  this  chief  peculiarity,  up  to  the  moment 
when  suicide  becomes  the  natural  and  artistic  close  of 
his  career,  we  must  confess  to  ourselves  that  what  Goethe 
added  from  his  own  character  and  Jerusalem's  personality 
appear  only  like  the  accidents  of  costume  and  situation. 
The  earliest  representative  of  this  character  is  Hamlet ; 
in  another  way  Moli£re  sought  to  embody  the  same  in  his 
Misanthrope ;  then  appeared  Rousseau's  St.  Preux,  and 
finally  Goethe's  Werther.  In  Werther  his  predecessors 
are  united.  We  shall  see  how  in  Faust  at  last  this 
struggle  is  ended  and  finds  its  reconcilement. 

It  is  because  Goethe  was  the  greater  poet  that  his  ro- 
mance ranks  above  Rousseau's  "  Nouvelle  Heloise  "  and 
contemporary  English  romances.  His  genius  invested 
Werther  with  that  imperishable  element  which  is  lacking 
in  Rousseau's  St.  Preux,  who  long  since  became  faded  and 
lifeless.  Goethe  was  neither  philosopher  nor  moralist. 
"  The  Sorrows  of  Werther "  had  no  special  aim.  The 
English  poets  wished  to  improve  morals ;  Rousseau  would 
have  liked  to  reform  all  mankind  :  for  both  the  romance 


GREAT  EFFECT  OF  ROUSSEATl's  "  HELOISE."    157 

was  only  a  means.  But  Goethe  contemplated  nothing  of 
the  kind.  He  neither  intends  to  recommend  suicide,  as 
was  thought  at  first,  nor  to  scare  men  away  from  it,  as 
he  himself  later  seems  to  assert.  Goethe  only  wished  to 
disburden  his  imagination  of  what  it  had  itself  created, 
and  which  tormented  and  goaded  him  on  to  give  it  visible 
form  and  shape.  He  longed  to  give  utterance  to  what 
else  must  break  his  heart.  His  work  is  a  poem,  and 
nothing  else ;  hence  its  powerful  effect  and  the  reason 
why  it  still  lives.  In  "  Gotz  "  and  "  Werther,"  the  Ger- 
man people  had  for  the  first  time  a  drama  and  a  novel 
which  thrilled  them  with  their  intrinsic  power. 

Modern  literary  history  affords  but  few  examples  of 
such  phenomena.  Corneille's  "  Cid "  had  as  great  an 
effect  in  France  one  hundred  and  fifty  years  earlier,  and 
perhaps  Cervantes'  "  Don  Quixote "  in  Spain.  Both 
Dante  and  Shakspeare  only  gradually  forced  their  way. 
Of  Homer's  poems  we  know  nothing  concerning  the  first 
centuries  of  their  existence ;  nor  yet  whether  .<Eschylus  and 
Sophocles  in  Athens  produced  an  immediate  effect  with 
their  masterly  works.  Rousseau  alone,  with  his  "  Nou- 
velle  Heloise,"  had  caused  a  sensation  in  Paris,  which 
in  its  extent  even  exceeded  Goethe's  "  "Werther."  The 
curious  feature  in  Rousseau's  romance  is  that  the  love- 
letters  are  as  much  a  bit  of  real  life  as  Lotte  in  Goethe's 
story.  Rousseau,  when  he  wrote  his  poem,  loved  a 
woman  who  also  loved  him,  but  from  whom  he  separated 
out  of  regard  for  a  friend  whom  they  were  both  unwill- 
ing to  disappoint  or  betray.  On  this  account  also  it 
seemed  to  Goethe  as  if  a  special  providence  had  thrown 
Rousseau's  romance  into  his  hands ;  and  he  felt  compelled 
to  adhere  to  his  model.  This  was  so  clearly  perceived  at 
the  time,  that  in  a  copy  of  "  Werther  "  which  Goethe  had 
lent  to  a  friend  he  found  written,  when  returned  to  him, 


158  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

in  an  unknown  hand,  the  words  :  "  Tais-toi,  pauvre  Jean- 
Jacques,  ils  ne  te  comprendront  pas."  This  proves  that 
not  only  Goethe  himself,  but  his  readers,  were  under 
Rousseau's  powerful  influence.  When  Goethe  and  Kest- 
ner  met  for  the  first  time  and  questioned  each  other 
regarding  their  fundamental  ideas,  and  whatever  else 
people  of  twenty  years  of  age  or  thereabouts  are  accus- 
tomed to  discuss,  Rousseau  was  immediately  the  subject 
of  their  conversation.  How  deeply  Goethe  was  imbued 
with  Rousseau  is  shown  by  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
scenes  in  "  Faust."  It  is  where  Faust,  alone  in  Gretchen's 
chamber,  examines  with  rapture  everything  belonging  to 
her,  because  it  all  seems  permeated  with  her  presence. 
This  scene  corresponds  with  that  in  "  La  Nouvelle  Helo- 
ise,"  where  St.  Preux,  waiting  for  his  beloved  Julie  in  her 
own  maiden  bower,  goes  into  ecstasies  over  all  her  little 
surroundings.  (How  far  Faust's  experimental  philoso- 
phy was  suggested  by  Rousseau's  life  it  is  not  in  place 
here  to  discuss.) 

But  not  alone  for  the  conception  of  the  characters  in 
"  Werther"  was  Goethe  indebted  to  Rousseau.  He  is,  in 
fact,  in  quite  as  great  a  measure  dependent  upon  him  for 
the  coloring.  In  "  Werther  "  is  first  revealed  his  hom- 
age to  Nature  in  all  her  different  aspects,  which  was  truly 
among  Goethe's  intuitions,  but  which  had  never  found 
expression  until  he  began  to  write  "  Werther." 

There  has  never  lived  a  greater  literary  landscape- 
painter  than  Goethe.  But  if  we  examine  his  works  with 
this  idea  in  mind,  we  see  with  astonishment  that  it  is  not 
a  purely  natural  gift, —  a  something  which  from  the  begin- 
ning flows  on  in  its  own  way  without  needing  direction 
from  others,  —  for  it  is  only  from  the  Gotz  and  Wertlier 
period  that  we  find  these  passionate  descriptions  of 
Nature.  This  he  retained  to  the  very  last ;  and  in  his 


HIS    SUSCEPTIBILITY    TO    NATURE.  159 

later  days  watched  the  mist,  the  clouds,  the  varied 
aspects  of  earth  and  heaven,  and  felt  himself  in  harmony 
with  it  all.  This,  too,  is  to  be  attributed  to  Rousseau. 
Rousseau  first  represented  men  as  in  ever  constant  de- 
pendence upon  the  elementary  powers.  According  to 
him  we  are  subject  to  the  influences  of  the  sun,  the  night, 
and  the  character  of  the  landscape.  His  romances  are 
full  of  descriptions  of  Nature,  which  he  knows  how  so  to 
inform  with  life  that  it  seems  a  living,  breathing  reality  ; 
and  here  he  found  in  Goethe  a  pupil  who  far  excelled  his 
master.  "  The  Sorrows  of  Werther  "  contain  such  a  wealth 
of  natural  imagery  that  if  at  any  time  the  ethical  part  of 
the  romance  should  be  lost,  —  that  is  to  say  should  be- 
come incomprehensible,  —  this  part  alone  would  suffice  to 
inspire  continued  admiration  for  the  work.  It  is  true  that 
Rousseau  alone  should  not  be  mentioned  here :  Herder's 
writings,  and  an  acquaintance  with  Ossian  and  Homer, 
led  Goethe  just  as  directly  to  Nature,  and  gave  him  words 
to  express  what  he  wished  to  describe.  But  Herder  must 
have  derived  his  own  inspiration  largely  from  Rousseau, 
and  without  Rousseau  Herder  and  Goethe  would  never  have 
penetrated  so  deeply  into  the  spirit  of  Ossian  and  Homer. 
Homer  and  Ossian  were  Goethe's  favorite  reading  at  the 
time  he  was  working  upon  "  Werther."  Dante  was  as 
much  unknown  to  him  at  that  time  as  Italy  herself.  He 
was  even  less  acquainted  with  Wolfram  von  Eschenbach, 
who,  in  my  opinion,  among  the  Germans  is  the  finest 
delineator  of  Nature,  and  who  certainly  produces  the 
greatest  effects  with  the  least  material. 

Goethe's  awakening  to  the  beauty  of  Nature  may 
almost  be  said  to  have  been  sudden.  It  is  remarkable 
what  a  difference  there  is  in  the  language  and  ideas  in 
his  letters,  from  the  first  moment  that  he  came  under 
the  influence  of  Herder.  The  delicately  complicated 


160  LIFE    AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

Wielandish  sentences  which  were  formed  according  to 
French  syntax  change  into  abrupt  turns  of  speech  im- 
itating the  colloquial  style ;  the  adjectives  become  full 
of  meaning  and  amplify  the  nouns,  sometimes  in  an 
intentionally  startling  manner ;  the  verbs  have  a  fresh 
spirit  infused  into  them  by  union  with  new  copulas,  and 
everywhere  we  see  the  endeavor  to  build  up  the  sentences 
in  architectural  fashion,  and  by  euphony  of  inflection  to 
strengthen  the  rhythm  of  thought, —  a  striving  which 
finally  led  him  to  the  direct  imitation  of  the  Pindaric 
Odes.  Goethe's  critiques  and  his  essay  on  Erwin  von 
Steinbach — and,  better  even  than  this  essay,  a  letter  writ- 
ten at  this  time  —  reveal  strikingly  this  suddenly-awak- 
ened talent  for  seeing  and  describing  Nature.  It  is  to  a 
friend ;  is  dated  Saarbriick,  June  27,  1771,  and  contains 
a  bit  of  landscape  painting  in  the  new  style,  which  is 
among  the  most  beautiful  things  which  ever  fell  from 
Goethe's  pen :  nothing  earlier  approaches  it,  and  nothing 
later  goes  beyond  it.  But  now  we  must  leave  Rousseau, 
and  pass  on  to  what  is  original  with  Goethe  in  the 
romance. 

I  have  connected  Lotte  as  a  poetical  creation  with  St. 
Preux's  beloved  Julie ;  but  the  priority  of  Rousseau 
reaches  only  so  far,  that  he  has  made  an  unhappy  pair 
the  principal  characters  in  his  fiction,  —  and  Goethe  has 
followed  his  example,  just  as  Bernardin  de  Saint-Pierre 
did  in  his  "  Paul  and  Virginia :  "  the  imitation  reaches 
no  further.  Lotte  has  nothing  in  common  with  Julie, 
with  the  single  exception  that  like  Julie  she  is  perfectly 
natural ;  that  is  to  say,  she  does  not  act  from  enforced 
rules,  but  follows  the  dictates  of  her  heart. 

Werther's  Lotte  is  Goethe's  most  renowned  creation, 
and  entirely  his  own.  He  has  so  felicitously  given  the 
type  of  true  womanhood  that  every  maiden  can  believe 


THE   UNIQUE    CHARACTER   OF    LOTTE.          161 

herself  a  Lotte  ;  and,  at  the  same  time,  has  so  individ- 
ualized her  that  each  must  confess  that  she  could  never 
reach  this  ideal.  So  much  nature,  health,  and  goodness 
no  other  possessed.  All  Europe  was  inspired,  and  sought 
with  eagerness  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  original  of  this 
enchanting  vision,  with  which  neither  Pamela  nor  Rous- 
seau's Julie  could  be  compared.  Lotte  remained  the 
queen  among  Goethe's  friends,  as  well  as  among  his 
poetic  creations.  Lotto's  family  understood  this  ;  and 
even  her  grandchildren  have  borne  themselves  as  if  they 
stood  in  a  spiritual  relation  to  Goethe  which  they  deemed 
quite  equal  to  any  temporal  one. 

Up  to  the  time  of  Lotte's  accession  to  the  throne, 
Klopstock's  Fanny  had  been  the  highest  ideal  of  woman- 
hood in  Germany.  Heyne  in  Gottingen  writes  to  Herder: 
"  Greet  your  Fanny,  which  means  greet  your  affianced 
bride,  —  on  whom  I  bestow,  in  the  name  of  Fanny,  the 
highest  aesthetic  distinction."  But  from  this  time  no 
name  supersedes  Lotte's. 

After  the  appearance  of  "  Werther,"  young  girls  named 
Lotte  refused  to  be  called  so  any  longer,  feeling  them- 
selves unworthy  to  bear  the  name.  Lotte  had  a  wholly 
different  nature  from  Fanny's.  In  Lotte  there  was  not 
the  slightest  admixture  of  sentimentality,  nor  the  faintest 
rustle  of  angels'  wings,  which  in  Klopstock's  ideal  women 
was  always  heard.  Lotte  has  no  trace  of  that  aristo- 
cratic distinction  which  is  an  inherent  peculiarity  in  Jean 
Paul's  ideal  -court  ladies,  and  also  in  some  of  Goethe's 
heroines  of  a  later  date.  Lotte  is  the  simplest  and  most 
lovely  German  maiden,  of  whom  nothing  special  is  to  be 
said.  She  enjoys  dancing,  she  loves  poetry,  she  can 
be  enthusiastic ;  but  she  only  needs  to  hear  the  slightest 
noise  in  the  house,  and  she  leaps  down  from  the  heavens 
into  her  wonted  sphere  and  is  nothing  but  a  housewife. 

11 


162  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

Housewife  she  was  even  as  a  young  girl,  for  she  must  fill 
a  mother's  place  to  a  flock  of  younger  brothers  and  sis- 
ters. This  it  was  which  attracted  all  hearts  to  her  ;  for 
the  most  every-day  maiden  could  take  Lotte  as  her  ideal, 
without  feeling  that  she  soared  too  high  above  her. 

This  feature  in  the  romance  disarmed  those  who  would 
fain  lay  stress  on  the  pernicious  tendencies  of  "  Werther." 
Lotte  made  up  for  everything.  The  same  forms  of 
household  life  which  Goethe  had  depicted  with  such  his- 
toric fidelity  in  "  Gotz,"  he  now  presents  to  us  in  a 
modern  guise ;  and  a  purer,  truer,  more  attractive  pic- 
ture is  not  to  be  imagined.  This  is  also  one  of  Diirer's 
charms, — that  in  his  "Life  of  Mary,"  and  his  other  innu- 
merable pictures  of  the  Madonna,  we  find  continual  illus- 
trations of  German  home  life.  And  this  it  is  which  gives 
to  Luther's  teachings  such  power, — the  very  thing  which 
the  Romish  church  most  severely  reproved  in  him, — 
that  he  possessed  a  family,  and  that  wife  and  children 
stood  around  him  when  he  closed  his  eyes  in  death. 

Goldsmith's  "  Vicar  of  Wakefield,"  on  the  other  hand, 
fails  in  this  very  respect.  In  it  the  household  only  af- 
fords a  field  upon  which  experiments  in  domesticity  are 
tried  ;  as,  in  Rousseau's  story,  Julie's  happy  marriage 
later  with  Yon  Wolmar  is  not  made  the  climax  of  the 
book.  Both  of  these  fictions  are  injured  by  their  didactic 
aim.  Goethe  never  proposed  anything  of  the  sort.  Like 
Diirer,  he  contents  himself  with  representing  what  he 
sees  before  him,  and  leaves  it  to  those  into  whose  hands 
the  work  may  fall  to  draw  from  it  the  moral.  In  "  Gotz 
von  Berlichingen,"  how  deeply  symbolic  the  feature  that 
the  child  of  Gotz  and  Elizabeth  —  both  heirs  of  an  old 
giant  race  —  grows  up  to  be  an  effeminate  fellow,  whose 
greatest  delight  is  to  stay  at  home  and  listen  to  the  fairy 
tales  of  his  aunt,  thereby  proving  himself  in  every  way 


PERIOD  OF  HIS  HIGHEST  PRODUCTIVE  POWER.    163 

exactly  the  opposite  of  his  father  and  mother.  We  might 
say,  with  little  exaggeration,  that  the  whole  future  of 
Germany  is  contained  in  this.  But  Goethe  just  lets  it 
pass  before  our  fantasy,  without  pointing  his  finger  at  it. 
This  absence  of  intention  gives  the  works  of  great  artists 
a  similarity  to  the  creations  of  Nature,  who  does  not  print 
on  the  leaves  of  her  roses  and  lilies  any  special  admoni- 
tion to  enjoy  and  admire  them,  but  contents  herself  with 
allowing  them  to  grow  and  blossom. 

The  years  in  which  "  Werther  "  was  written  were  with 
Goethe  years  of  the  highest  productive  power.  We 
readily  believe  him  when  he  says  that,  if  it  had  been  de- 
sired, he  could  have  shaken  out  of  his  sleeve  a  whole 
series  of  dramas  like  "  Gotz."  At  that  time  "  Clavigo  " 
and  "  Stella"  and  "  Claudine  of  Villa  Bella  "  in  their 
first  form,  and  a  quantity  of  his  most  beautiful  songs  and 
ballads,  were  written.  I  do  not  follow  up  these  things 
minutely,  because  it  would  only  oblige  me  to  repeat  in 
other  forms  what  I  have  already  said. 

"  Egmont,"  also,  was  begun  at  this  time,  not  to  speak 
of  "  Faust,"  which  was  already  in  condition  to  be  read 
to  some  of  his  friends.  All  these  works  were  included 
in  the  years  1774-75.  People  and  work  crowded  upon 
Goethe  in  such  a  confused  mass  that  it  is  impossi- 
ble to  follow  things  exactly.  Those  who  have  most 
carefully  collected  and  arranged  the  material  must  can- 
didly acknowledge  that  double  and  treble  the  amount  of 
information  would  not  be  sufficient  to  enable  us  to  do 
this.  The  attempt  to  give  some  idea  of  the  men  who 
surrounded  him  may  be  more  successful. 

Goethe  was  certainly  at  this  time  the  most  stupendous 
phenomenon  which  had  appeared  in  the  German  literary 
world.  Klopstock,  Wieland,  Lessing,  and  Herder  were 
much  older,  and  their  general  aims  plainly  understood. 


164  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

Goethe  was  a  wholly  fresh  power.  His  depth  seemed 
unfathomable,  his  imagination  inexhaustible,  while  be- 
tween his  person  and  his  works  such  a  harmony  obtained 
that  one  was  not  to  be  understood  without  the  other. 
One  had  to  live  with  him,  to  sit  days  and  nights  talking 
with  him,  in  order  to  comprehend  him.  All  distinguished 
men  who  came  to  Frankfort  sought  to  make  his  acquaint- 
ance. We  have  knowledge  from  many  sources  of  such 
meetings.  Goethe  is  constantly  described  as  a  rare  phe- 
nomenon ;  as  a  genius  who  rises  conspicuously  above  the 
rest  of  mankind,  and  from  whom  everything  is  to  be  ex- 
pected. The  fame  which  Goethe  enjoyed  after  the  ap- 
pearance of  "  Werther  "  was  the  greatest  the  world  ever 
showered  upon  him.  The  wild  and  wanton  happiness 
of  these  days  he  never  tasted  again.  His  name  was  in 
everybody's  mouth.  Edition  after  edition  of  the  work 
followed  in  quick  succession,  —  criticism,  sequels,  drama- 
tizations, translations.  Werther's  dress,  —  blue  coat  and 
yellow  breeches,  —  which  Jerusalem  wore  in  accordance 
with  the  South-German  fashion,  became  the  uniform  of 
the  young  people.  Thus  attired  Goethe  entered  society 
in  Weimar ;  and  whoever,  for  any  reason,  was  unable  to 
supply  himself  with  a  like  costume  at  court  received  a 
present  of  a  suit  from  the  Duke.  In  Wetzlar,  step  by 
step,  the  walks  of  the  wretched  Jerusalem  were  hunted 
out,  who  never  while  on  earth  had  a  suspicion  he  could 
become  such  an  object  of  interest.  And  Goethe's  own 
favorite  paths  and  resting-places  were  also  frequented. 
The  well  before  the  Wilsbacher  Thor,  where  he  set  the 
pail  on  the  head  of  the  servant  girl,  is  called  "  Werther's 
Well."  Garbenheim  acquired  such  historic  interest  that 
some  officers  of  a  Russian  regiment,  passing  through  it 
in  1814,  were  tempted  to  bear  away  a  stone  urn  as  a 
relic.  Goethe's  favorite  haunt  was  marked  by  a  pyramid 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  "  WERTHER  "  IMMORTAL.   165 

of  white  marble,  and  in  1849  the  grounds  about  it  were 
newly  laid  out. 

This  romance  of  Goethe's  is  itself  to-day  a  memorial 
of  times  gone  by,  and  which  without  it  would  scarce  be 
thought  of.  The  literature  which  called  it  forth  is  no 
longer  read  ;  at  least,  no  longer  in  the  spirit  of  those 
days.  Who  would  regard  the  "  Vicar  6f  Wakefield"  to-day 
as  a  sensational  romance  ?  The  people  who  had  a  share 
in  the  story  of  "Werther"  are  forgotten,  and  even  the 
language  in  which  it  was  written  differs  essentially  from 
the  style  of  to-day.  Only  the  intellectual  power  which 
radiates  from  the  book  sustains  its  interest ;  but  this  is 
enough  to  insure  its  immortality.  There  will  come  ages 
in  whose  sight  one  or  two  centuries  now  gone  by  will 
seem  hardly  more  distant  than  the  present  time,  —  just 
as  to-day  we  couple  Dante  and  Petrarch,  Corneille  and 
Voltaire  together,  forgetting  that  a  whole  century  lies 
between  them.  Dante's  poem  had  to  pass  through  gen- 
erations who  found  its  language  little  to  their  taste  ;  they 
thought  it  too  primitive  and  unpolished,  —  and  yet  one 
generation  after  another  has  admired  and  interpreted  it 
from  new  points  of  view,  until  now  Dante  stands  as 
it  were  beyond  the  ages,  unequalled  and  alone.  He  is 
no  longer  compared  with  others,  but  others  with  him. 
To  us  to-day  the  language  of  "  Werther  "  seems  in  many 
respects  old-fashioned.  We  believe  we  write  a  more  vig- 
orous, inspiring,  and  better  style.  But  the  time  is  coin- 
ing when  our  present  days,  to  the  retrospective  glance, 
will  seem  as  unfamiliar  and  strange  as  Goethe's  youthful 
days  to  us.  Then  only,  when  all  comparison  ceases,  will 
it  be  seen  clearly,  as  in  the  hour  when  "  Werther  "  first 
appeared,  what  a  youthful  vigor  informs  the  language 
with  which  Goethe  surprised  the  world  in  his  early  man- 
hood ;  while  the  dead  formulas  in  which  we  are  now 


166  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

compelled  to  express  our  best  thoughts,  and  the  provin- 
cialisms by  which  we  attempt  to  infuse  some  life  into  our 
writings  will  be  rejected  as  valueless  in  the  scientific 
analysis  of  the  future.  Nothing  is  written  to-day  to  com- 
pare with  Goethe's  prose,  as  it  burst  upon  the  German 
people  in  "  Werther." 


HIS   RELATIONS   WITH   LAVATER.  167 


LECTURE  IX. 

LAVATER. 

THE  men  with  whom  we  now  see  Goethe  associating, 
as  we  gather  from  his  own  description  and  numer- 
ous letters  written  by  others  at  this  time,  form  a  varied 
and  brilliant  company,  comprising  men  of  all  ranks  in 
life.  We  wholly  forget  that  if  Goethe  did  not  still  live 
most  of  these  people  would  form  part  of  that  shadowy 
throng  who  have  no  pretension  to  any  share  of  earthly  im- 
mortality. If  we  search  among  Goethe's  acquaintances 
who  apart  from  him  would  be  known  to-day,  or  who 
on  account  of  their  own  merits  hold  a  conspicuous  place 
in  history,  only  a  few  are  to  be  found.  Lavater  is  to  be 
named  first,  and  after  him  Jacobi. 

Both  of  them  sought  like  Herder  to  overpower  Goethe  ; 
but  ther~e  was  this  difference,  that,  instead  of  drawing  him 
along  with  them,  they  very  soon  submitted  to  his  influ- 
ence, and  allowed  him  to  affect  their  subsequent  career. 
They  clung  to  Goethe,  and  Jacobi  was  successful  in  frus- 
trating all  Goethe's  attempts  to  free  himself.  A  rupture 
occurred  between  them  ;  but  by  means  of  the  slight  thread 
of  attachment  which  remained  Jacobi  gradually  restored 
the  friendly  relation.  On  the  contrary,  Lavater  was 
wholly  thrust  aside  ;  and,  indeed,  because  his  nature  con- 
tained more  dangerous  elements. 

These    conflicts    belong  among  the    most    important 


168  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

events  in  Goethe's  further  development.  They  form  the 
close  of  what  is  described  in  "  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit" 
as  his  youth.  They  are  the  flower  of  the  book,  if  consid- 
ered as  an  historical  work  of  art.  Lavater  and  Jacobi 
are  here  described  with  a  masterly  skill,  which  so  far  as 
my  literary  knowledge  goes  has  never  been  excelled. 
They  live  before  our  eyes ;  they  betray  themselves  natu- 
rally ;  not  at  once,  but  by  fits  and  starts  as  it  were,  just 
as  life  and  experience  teach  us  to  find  men  out.  Goethe 
again  and  again  calls  them  up  ;  they  do  not  present  them- 
selves to  us  at  one  glance,  like  books  \ve  read  all  through 
in  a  single  day,  but  rather  like  the  feuilleton  fragments 
in  a  newspaper,  where  we  may  skip  many  numbers,  but 
somewhere  accidentally  will  find  the  beginning  and  the 
end  of  our  story.  The  art  of  constructing  characters  out 
of  what  seem  to  be  only  fragments,  but  so  that  after 
the  work  is  done  not  the  slightest  gap  remains,  Goethe 
possessed  in  the  highest  degree.  Here  we  perceive  how 
nearly  related  poetry  and  historic  narration  may  be. 

Goethe  gives  Shakspeare  the  credit  of  allowing  us  to 
look  into  the  very  souls  of  his  characters  as  into  glass 
clocks.  In  this  is  contained  great  praise,  but  limited  ; 
at  least  I  find  something  in  this  remark  of  Goethe's 
which  it  is  possible  he  did  not  have  in  mind  when  he 
made  the  comparison.  Shakspeare's  creations  are  like 
clocks  in  some  respects.  We  see  often  only  too  mi- 
nutely the  moving  wheels  and  springs  instead  of  the  free 
circulation  of  the  blood.  A  tendency  exists  to-day  to 
depreciate  Shakspeare ;  and  it  would  be  sad  indeed  if 
this  attempt  should  have  even  a  transient  success :  but 
the  parallel  between  Shakspeare  and  Goethe  is  a  theme 
in  the  discussion  of  which  Goethe  for  the  most  part, 
chiefly  owing  to  his  own  over-modest  avowal,  is  placed 
on  too  low  a  pedestal.  Goethe's  characters  are  beings 


HIS  ENTHUSIASM  FOR  LAVATER.       169 

from  another  sphere  than  Shakspeare's.  Goethe  also 
lets  us  look  into  their  souls,  but  not  as  if  they  were 
clocks,  but  rather  plants  of  glass,  whose  vascular  system 
is  so  transparent  that  we  can  see  the  sap  running  up  and 
down  in  them.  Just  as  transparent  are  Goethe's  Lava- 
ter  and  Jacobi.  As  in  the  spring,  when  we  watch  the 
trees  and  see  how  leaf  follows  leaf,  and  blossom  blos- 
som, —  when  in  closest  harmony  with  Nature  we  seem  to 
be  initiated  into  her  plans,  and  the  promises  she  makes 
are  visibly  though  modestly  realized,  —  so  in  "  Dichtung 
und  Wahrheit "  we  watch  the  development  of  Goethe  and 
his  friends. 

Lavater's  correspondence  at  that  time  with  Goethe  is 
found,  in  an  unabridged  form,  in  "  The  Young  Goethe." 
Hirzel  also  collected  the  letters  from  Goethe's  parents  to 
Lavater,  and  had  them  printed  Jan.  4,  1866,  on  Jacob 
Grimm's  birthday,  for  private  distribution. 

Lavater  was  according  to  Goethe  "  a  unique,  distin- 
guished individual,  such  as  had  not  been  seen  before  and 
would  not  be  seen  again."  This  was  his  judgment  of 
him  in  later  years.  We  will  add  to  this  a  passage  quoted 
from  one  of  his  letters,  as  the  result  of  his  immediate 
observation.  The  7th  of  September,  1779,  he  writes  :  "  It 
is  with  Lavater  as  with  the  Rhine-fall,  you  think  you  have 
never  seen  him  as  you  see  him  now  ;  he  is  the  very  flower 
of  humanity,  the  best  of  the  best."  We  must  add,  how- 
ever, that  after  a  short  acquaintance  with  Lavater  Goethe, 
in  seeking  to  concentrate  his  opinion  of  the  whole  man  in 
some  ideal  form,  made  him  the  Mahomet  of  his  tragedy ; 
representing  Mahomet  as  having  entered  upon  his  mis- 
sion in  good  faith,  and  compelled,  for  the  sake  of  his 
followers,  later  to  lie  and  deceive.  The  most  remarkable 
feature  in  Goethe's  enthusiasm  for  Lavater  was,  that  he 
understood  from  the  very  beginning  of  their  acquaint- 


170  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

ance  the  leading  motives  which  governed  the  man,  but 
allowed  himself  to  be  overcome  by  his  immense  personal 
magnetism. 

Goethe  in  Lavater,  again,  met  a  man  older  than  him- 
self. Lavater  was  born  in  Zurich  in  1741,  son  of  a 
physician.  He  was  a  dreamy  child,  early  inclined  to  the 
reading  of  the  Bible,  to  meditation  and  prayer,  —  a  puzzle 
to  those  who  had  the  care  of  him.  Religion  was  at  that 
time  the  institution  conspicuous  in  all  the  affairs  of  daily 
life,  and  nearer  to  the  hearts  of  the  people,  who  had  not 
been  disturbed  by  the  criticism  which  to-day  places  so 
much  stress  on  having  established,  as  is  believed,  the  his- 
torical value  of  the  Gospels.  Lavater  had  a  natural  bias 
towards  the  ministry.  The  leading  trait  of  his  nature 
showed  itself  very  early,  which  was  in  a  most  decided  man- 
ner, but  with  exact  calculation  of  all  the  consequences,  to 
take  an  active  part  in  public  affairs.  He  Avas  only  nine- 
teen years  old  when  he  anonymously  addressed  to  the 
administration  a  most  stinging  letter,  complaining  of  the 
reprehensible  manner  in  which  Governor  Grevel  executed 
the  duties  of  his  office,  —  for  which  letter  he  was  appre- 
hended and  brought  to  trial.  Lavater  soon  found  that, 
in  order  to  attain  any  effectual  influence,  it  was  indispen- 
sable to  have  some  recognition  in  foreign  countries.  In 
1763  he  set  out  on  his  first  great  theological  tour  through 
Germany,  formed  many  connections,  returned  home  with 
some  renown,  and  began  directly  to  write  his  principal 
work,  "  Glimpses  into  Eternity,"  which  appeared  between 
1768  and  1773.  This  soon  became  a  standard  work,  and 
gave  Lavater  a  sure  position.  Again  we  see  Rousseau's 
spirit,  or  in  other  words  the  spirit  of  the  age,  finding 
fresh  expression  in  an  energetic  man.  The  question  was 
the  reconstruction  of  human  nature ;  and  Lavater  in  our 
eyes  differs  very  little  from  Rousseau,  although  the  latter 


LAVATEK'S  "PHYSIOGNOMICAL  FRAGMENTS."  171 

/ 

came  into  the  field  as  philosopher  and  atheist,  while  the 
former  hoped  to  gain  everything  by  means  of  prayer. 

Lavater  was  now  made  only  a  deacon  in  Zurich,  but  he 
gained  steadily  in  power  by  the  gift  which  enabled  him  to 
read  the  characters  of  men,  and  from  their  outward  aspect 
and  behavior  to  draw  conclusions  as  to  their  mental  con- 
stitution. It  is  well  known  that  physicians,  police-men, 
and  in  fact  all  officials  who,  aided  by  a  certain  show  of 
authority,  are  brought  into  daily  intercourse  with  the  gen- 
eral public,  soon  acquire  a  facility  in  reading  the  kind  of 
persons  with  whom  they  may  have  to  deal  even  before  they 
open  their  mouths.  The  practised  custom-house  officer 
does  not  look  at  the  trunk,  but  at  its  possessor,  to  decide 
whether  it  contains  anything  taxable.  Lavater,  as  the  son 
of  a  physician,  had  perhaps  been  familiar  with  the  study 
of  physiognomy  from  his  youth  up.  To  enlarge  his  posi- 
tion in  Zurich,  he  felt  under  the  necessity  of  making 
another  literary  effort ;  but  it  must  be  something  great, 
something  in  accordance  with  the  spirit  of  the  times,  and 
something  absolutely  new :  this  was  the  incentive  to  his 
extensive  work  called  "  Physiognomical  Fragments  to 
promote  the  Knowledge  and  Love  of  Mankind."  The 
title  reveals  at  once  what  is  to  be  expected,  —  only  frag- 
ments, not  the  intention  to  give  a  carefully  worked-out 
and  complete  system.  And  not  only  was  science  to  be 
promoted,  but  charity  as  well.  Philanthropy  at  that  time 
was  the  great  word.  The  philanthropists  stood  foremost 
everywhere :  the  philanthropist  upon  the  throne  was  the 
ideal  of  the  age.  Every  one,  high  and  low,  should  feel 
called  upon  not  only  to  read  Lavater's  book,  but  to  con- 
tribute to  the  work.  Everywhere  Lavater  sends  requests 
for  portraits,  which  he  offers  to  read  and  interpret. 

Coldly  criticising  this  undertaking  to-day,  we  must  de- 
clare Lavater  a  hundred  years  ahead  of  his  time;  for  even 


172  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

now,  when  the  art  of  puffing  has  been  brought  to  the  high- 
est perfection,  it  would  be  impossible  to  get  up  anything 
more  brilliant  and  effective.  And  for  this  work  Goethe 
suffered  himself  to  be  dragged  in  as  joint  editor.  He 
finally  undertook  the  charge  of  the  publishing ;  and  thus 
made  himself,  in  a  measure,  responsible  for  the  whole 
thing.  How  much  he  actually  contributed  to  the  work 
must  be  ascertained  by  further  and  more  minute  re- 
searches :  there  are  only  a  few  passages  here  and  there  in 
poetry  as  well  as  in  prose  which  are  unmistakably  his. 
The  "  Physiognomical  Fragments  "  are  in  four  full-sized 
quarto  volumes.  The  imposing  leather-bound  tomes, 
usually  to  be  found  adorning  old  libraries,  attest  the  rev- 
erence with  which  the  work  "was  received  at  the  time.  It 
appeared  between  1775  and  1778,  was  hailed  with  extraor- 
dinary expectation  and  excited  extraordinary  satisfaction. 
The  cool  criticisms  of  some  scholars  who  saw  through 
the  swindle  were  rejected  as  envious  attempts  at  dispar- 
agement. Besides  the  dedication  of  the  separate  volumes 
to  the  most  philanthropic  German  princes,  a  quantity  of 
engravings  and  etchings  —  part  of  them  good  —  adorned 
the  book.  In  this  way,  the  best  portrait  of  Goethe's 
father  lias  come  down  to  posterity. 

The  fundamental  idea  of  the  book  is  that  the  character 
of  the  soul  is  expressed  in  the  whole  outward  frame,  but 
more  especially  mirrored  in  the  face.  And  therefore  the 
form  of  man  must  be  regarded  as  an  harmonious  work  of 
art,  produced  by  the  hand  of  the  master-artist  Nature. 
The  doctrine  of  this  harmony  was  at  that  time  familiar  to 
everybody  ;  and  Diderot's  attempts  to  make  art  more  nat- 
uralistic were  founded  on  it.  From  a  single  finger  Di- 
derot undertook  to  demonstrate  whether  the  whole  man 
was  straight  or  deformed.  Instead  of  finding  or  even 
seeking  laws,  instead  of  ascertaining  how  far  observation 


PHYSIOGNOMICAL    THEORIES.  173 

might  be  trusted  here,  they  brought  forward  with  a  show 
of  exact  investigation  the  most  fantastic  hypotheses,  and 
believed  the  brilliant  conceits  of  men  of  genius  were  to 
be  accepted  as  proofs.  From  the  portrait  of  a  boy,  which 
one  was  not  sure  was  at  all  like  the  original,  they  be- 
lieved they  could  decipher  the  moral  capacity  and  future 
career  of  the  child.  Lavater  always  deceives  himself : 
either  he  evolves  from  the  picture  before  him  the  char- 
acter of  an  individual  already  known  to  him,  and  then 
goes  boldly  on  into  the  smallest  personal  details ;  or  he 
does  not  know  his  people,  and  indulges  in  mere  common- 
places. That  a  brilliant  man  of  great  experience,  like 
Lavater,  should  be  able  to  utter  many  sagacious  and  at 
the  same  time  amusing  things  is  not  to  be  denied  ;  and  as 
little,  that  many  of  his  observations  are  striking  and 
really  fine.  To  prove  how  indispensable  to  any  decision 
with  regard  to  the  mental  nature  of  a  man  his  outward 
appearance  is,  I  will  quote  something  about  Lavater  him- 
self. 

Goethe  hints,  as  before  of  Merck,  that  one  must  have 
known  Lavater  to  be  able  to  comprehend  him.  Some- 
thing like  a  substitute  for  his  personal  appearance  was 
offered  me  in  Lavater's  bust  by  Dannecker,  which  I  first 
saw  in  Stuttgart  the  artist's  home,  where  they  have 
awarded  to  the  works  of  this  great  sculptor  —  whose 
worth  and  dignity  seem  not  to  have  been  recognized  in 
his  native  city — a  small  annex,  as  a  place  of  honor  in  the 
museum.  It  is  generally  acknowledged  that  the  bust  of 
Schiller  by  Dannecker,  in  the  library  at  Weimar,  is  one 
of  the  finest  ever  wrought  out  in  Germany. 

That  a  bust  may  be  used  as  historic  material,  it  is  not 
necessary  that  it  should  represent  exactly  how  the  man 
looked  in  the  hour  when  the  artist  portrayed  him.  But 
the  sculptor  must  be  able  to  give  the  whole  presence  of 


174  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

the  man  as  a  conception  of  his  own,  quite  independent  of 
his  appearance  on  certain  days  and  hours :  Dannecker 
could  do  this.  His  bust  of  Lavater  granted  me  what  I 
had  sought  in  vain  in  other  ways  ;  namely,  an  impression 
of  his  personal  appearance  as  if  he  were  living  before  me. 
Lavater's  dreamy,  impressionable,  unsettled  kind  of  mind 
was  evidently  united  to  a  very  real  and  strong  individual- 
ity, which  showed  itself  in  his  aggressive  nature,  his  ever 
wakeful  diplomatic  subtlety,  his  inexhaustible  bodily 
vigor,  and  the  irresistible  magnetism  of  his  presence. 
The  man  must  have  been  made  of  watch-springs,  thin  as 
paper  but  hard  as  steel.  Dannecker  has  shown  in  a 
masterly  way  in  this  head  of  Lavater  the  powerfully 
strong  conformation  of  bones  and  skull,  with  the  finest 
play  of  the  muscles.  We  feel  what  eloquence  ance  be- 
longed to  these  lips ;  how  frank  and  peaceful  this  brow 
could  seem,  and  yet  how  obstinately  it  held  fast  and  con- 
cealed its  innermost  thoughts.  This  bust  gives  us  far 
more  than  we  could  have  derived  from  any  sculpture  or 
drawing  which  aimed  at  producing  nothing  but  a  so-called 
faithful  likeness ;  for,  if  we  are  to  find  the  features  of  a 
face  eloquent,  we  must  as  it  were  see  them  in  motion. 
I  wish  here  to  make  myself  perfectly  intelligible. 

In  the  museum  in  Berlin  is  found  a  picture  by  Jan  van 
der  Meer, — a  peasant's  house,  with  a  tree  before  it,  through 
whose  shade  the  sun  is  allowed  to  play  on  the  white  wall. 
The  artist  has  felt  that  the  peculiar  charm  of  this  scene 
consists  in  the  gentle  undulations  of  light  and  shade  ;  but 
who  can  paint  the  wind  or  the  soft  waving  of  the  leafy 
branches  ?  Nevertheless  it  is  done  here,  and  one  would 
swear  that  he  actually  saw  the  flitting  shadow  and  the 
dancing  sunlight !  We  think  we  see  what  the  artist 
intended  us  to  see ;  and  in  the  same  way  the  sculptor 
may  express  in  marble  the  motion  of  a  figure. 


LAVATER'S  PECULIAR  PHRASEOLOGY.       175 

Lavater,  in  his  interpretation  of  his  portraits,  -meddles 
with  the  private  affairs  of  the  men  whose  character  and 
fate  he  believes  himself  able  to  read  in  their  features. 
His  friends  come  out  of  this  ordeal  paragons  of  excel- 
lence, especially  when  he  describes  simple  natures  from 
the  middle  or  lower  classes.  A  masterpiece  in  another 
direction  is  his  characterization  of  Goethe,  which  against 
Goethe's  will  and  behind  his  back  was  added  to  the  book, 
with  two  portraits  of  him.  Lavater,  with  consummate  cun- 
ning, lavishes  upon  Goethe  eulogies  wrhich  in  an  indirect 
way  lead  us  to  divine  that  we  have  before  our  eyes  the 
most  extraordinary  man  of  the  century,  although,  as  we 
are  expressly  informed,  in  the  most  unsatisfactory  and 
inadequate  representations.  The  portrait  which  Lavater 
wished  to  have  of  Goethe  for  his  book  seems  to  have 
afforded  the  first  opportunity  for  a  personal  meeting. 
Goethe  had  criticised  the  "  Glimpses  into  Eternity  "  in 
the  Frankfort  "  Anzeigen,"  without  a  correspondence 
arising  between  them ;  but  now,  when  the  profile  of  the 
author  of  "  Gotz  von  Berlichingen  "  was  needed,  Goethe 
heard  of  it  and  offered  not  only  to  send  his  own  but 
the  portraits  of  others  as  well,  for  Lavater's  work.  The 
first  contribution  followed  in  April,  1774,  and  the  second, 
with  the  profile  of  the  Fraulein  von  Klettenberg,  in  the 
month  of  May.  Goethe  already  assumes  Lavater's  oracu- 
lar tone,  which  they  henceforth  maintain  towards  each 
other,  and  which  is  the  first  sign  of  Lavater's  influence 
over  Goethe. 

Lavater  had  blended  his  simple  Zurich  dialect  with  a 
seemingly  naive  and  careless  phraseology,  making  a  jargon 
the  advantages  of  which  struck  Goethe  at  once.  It  was 
possible  in  the  most  simple-hearted  manner  to  say  things 
out  bluntly,  or  merely  to  hint  at  them,  or  to  be  silent 
about  them :  at  a  bound  to  be  in  the  midst  of  a  train 


176  LIFE   AKD    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

of  thought,  and  as  quickly  out  of  it  again.  The  charm 
of  dialect  as  a  literary  form  lies  in  this  union  of  delicately 
shaded  thought  with  a  seemingly  unwieldy  expression. 
Klaus  Groth  lends  to  the  rough-sounding  uncouth  phrases 
of  the  platt  deutsch,  which  in  truth  are  incapable  of 
rendering  modern  thought  accurately,  the  capacity  to  ex- 
press the  tenderest  lyrical  conceptions,  —  as  if,  in  Schles- 
wig-Holstein,  precious  garden  flowers  grew  like  weeds  in 
all  the  paths,  and  the  peasant  children  wreathed  them 
into  crowns. 

Lavater's  apparently  natural  sentences,  which  sound 
like  mere  interjections,  seemed  at  that  time  to  he  the 
language  of  the  truest,  most  upright,  and  most  unsophis- 
ticated of  men.  The  stanch  republican  Swiss,  with  their 
unpretending  honesty,  had  come  into  fashion  as  historic 
models  in  Lavater's  time.  Each  Swiss  cow  gave  the 
purest  cream,  for  it  had  the  flavor  of  freedom  and  Alpine 
air !  Freedom  began  very  much  at  that  time  "  to  dwell 
on  the  mountains."  In  the  simple-hearted  tone  of  his 
countrymen  (who  were  perfect  tyrants  over  each  other) 
Lavater  knew  how  to  infuse  the  most  elevated  thoughts 
into  the  souls  of  his  hearers  by  a  kind  of  sorcery.  In  the 
June  of  1774  Lavater's  travelling  wagon  stopped  in 
the  hirschgraben  before  Goethe's  house.  They  met  for 
the  first  time.  "  Art  thou  he  ?  "  ("  Bischt's  ?  ")  "  I  am 
he  !  "  ("  Bin's !  "),  —  and  they  fell  on  each  other's  necks. 
The  first  surprise  over,  they  began  a  conversation  forth- 
with in  which  the  deepest  questions  were  passionately 
discussed.  All  Frankfort  had  with  Goethe  expected  the 
man  whose  presence  promised  infinite  joy  and  blessing. 
Lavater  understood  the  machinery  by  which  to  make 
these  journeys  effective  :  he  was  announced  beforehand, 
and  the  public  knew  everywhere  when  and  how  he 
would  arrive. 


HIS   DESCRIPTION   OF   LAYATER.  177 

In  his  account  of  this  visit,  Goethe  gives  the  first  com- 
prehensive description  of  Lavater.  He  says  :  — 

"  The  rest  of  us,  when  we  wish  to  talk  about  matters  re- 
lating to  the  mind  and  heart,  are  accustomed  to  withdraw 
from  the  crowd,  indeed  from  society,  because,  with  the  vari- 
ous ways  of  thinking  and  the  different  degrees  of  education, 
it  is  difficult  to  be  really  understood  even  by  a  few.  But 
Lavater  was  differently  minded.  He  loved  to  extend  his 
influence  far  and  wide,  and  only  felt  at  home  among  the 
crowd,  for  whose  edification  and  entertainment  he  possessed 
peculiar  talents,  owing  to  his  rare  gift  of  reading  faces.  He 
had  such  extraordinary  power  of  discernment  that  he  quickly 
discovered  in  the  face  of  each  person  the  mood  of  mind  he 
might  be  in ;  and  if  added  to  this  there  was  a  candid  confession, 
or  a  frank  question,  he  was  able  from  his  wealth  of  inward 
and  outward  experience  to  answer  in  a  manner  which  was 
appropriate  to  each  and  satisfied  everybody.  The  perfect 
mildness  of  his  eye,  the  constant  sweetness  of  his  lips,  even 
the  naive  Swiss  dialect  sounding  through  his  hoch  deutsch,  as 
well  as  many  other  distinguishing  traits,  combined  to  inspire  all 
with  whom  he  talked  with  the  most  delightful  sense  of  repose. 
Indeed,  his  sunken  chest  and  stooping  form  rather  helped 
to  counterbalance  his  immense  superiority  to  all  the  rest  of 
the  company.  Against  arrogance  and  conceit  he  knew  how 
to  hold  his  own  quietly  and  skilfully ;  for,  while  seeming  to 
evade, he  all  at  once  held  forth  a  great  idea  (which  his  narrow- 
•  minded  antagonist  would  never  have  thought  of)  like  a  dia- 
mond shield,  and  knew  how  to  temper  so  agreeably  the  light 
which  rayed  from  it  that  even  such  men  felt  themselves,  at 
least  while  in  his  presence,  convinced  and  instructed." 

I  have  only  given  here  some  sentences  culled  from 
Goethe's  lengthy  description.  While  his  characteriza- 
tion of  Merck  reminds  us  of  the  style  of  Tacitus,  the 
tenderer  and  more  circumstantial  manner  in  which  he 
paints  Lavater  reminds  us  of  Cicero's  full-toned  periods. 

12 


178  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

This  was  his  first  over-powering  impression  of  the  per- 
sonality of  a  man  about  whom  fourteen  years  later  he 
writes  to  Herder  :  — 

"I  do  homage  to  my  good  genius  —  which  means,  I  thank 
my  guardian  angel  —  who  has  saved  me  from  meeting  the 
prophet  either  by  the  way  or  in  Weimar.  The  world  is 
wide  :  let  him  live  in  it.  We  know  befoi*ehand  the  trail 
such  vermin  follow;  like  magic  rods,  their  noses  are  drawn 
towards  all  power,  rank,  money,  influence,  or  talent." 

And  finally  in  his  old  age,  in  conversation  with  Eck- 
ermann,  he  dismisses  Lavater  with  the  laconic  remark, 
"  He  lied  to  himself  and  others." 

That  Goethe  from  the  beginning  well  knew  Lavater's 
weak  side  we  discover,  as  I  have  already  observed,  from  his 
making  him  the  hero  of  his  "  Mahomet."  Loeper  thinks 
Goethe  had  conceived  the  tragedy  much  earlier,  and  that 
Lavater  only  came  in  later  as  a  welcome  representative 
of  his  idea  of  Mahomet.  This  would  correspond  to  the 
way  in  which,  as  we  see,  Goethe's  imagination  usually 
worked.  Goethe  also,  in  the  midst  of  the  tumult  into 
which  Lavater's  appearance  threw  him,  made  an  uncon- 
scious criticism  of  the  man,  which  contains  at  once  the 
prediction  of  what  his  innermost  motives  would  lead  to, 
and  the  best  apology  for  his  nature.  But  if  Goethe  him- 
self was  at  once  able  to  estimate  Lavater  correctly, — 
probably  assisted  by  Merck,  who  here,  as  everywhere,  sus- 
tained his  character  as  Mephistopheles,  —  all  the  rest  of 
the  Frankfort  world  were  completely  under  the  spell  of 
the  prophet.  Goethe's  mother  was  chief  among  his  ador- 
ers :  we  have  a  touching  letter  from  her,  written  to  him 
after  he  had  left  Frankfort.  "  Nothing  remains  to  me," 
she  writes, "  but  the  tears  with  which  I  weep  your  depart- 
ure !  "  Goethe,  however,  accompanies  Lavater  as  he  con- 
tinues his  journey.  He  says  : — 


LAVATER  AND  BASEDOW  COMPARED.    179 

"  So  many  topics  had  been  started  between  us  that  I  felt 
the  greatest  longing  to  continue  our  conversations ;  there- 
fore I  resolved,  if  he  would  go  to  Ems,  to  accompany  him, 
that  on  the  way,  shut  up  in  the  carriage  and  separated  from 
the  world,  we  might  freely  discuss  the  subjects  nearest  to  our 
hearts.  Lovely  summer  weather  attended  us ;  Lavater  was 
gay  and  fascinating.  In  spite  of  a  religious  and  moral  turn 
of  mind,  he  was  no  wise  pedantic,  and  did  not  remain  insen- 
sible to  the  excitements  and  cheerful  incidents  which  stirred 
the  minds  of  others.  He  was  sympathetic,  witty,  and  genial, 
and  liked  the  same  in  others,  always  restrained  within  the 
limits  prescribed  by  refined  feeling.  If  any  one  ventured 
beyond  this,  he  would  tap  him  on  the  shoulder,  and  with  a 
playful  '  Be  good ! '  recall  the  offender  to  a  sense  of  pro- 
priety. In  Ems  I  saw  him  at  once  surrounded  by  all  kinds 
of  people,  and  returned  to  Frankfort,  where  some  little 
matter  of  business  demanded  my  attention  which  I  could 
no  longer  neglect." 

Goethe  now  brings  upon  the  stage  a  curious  colleague 
of  Lavater,  who  was  at  the  same  time  his  direct  opposite, 
by  whom  he  was  led  a  second  time  to  Ems,  when  the 
real  journey  begins. 

"Basedow  arrives  in  Frankfort,  another  apostle  of  educa- 
tion. A  more  decided  contrast  could  not  be  found  than 
between  these  two  men.  If  Lavater's  featm-es  were  open 
and  frank  as  the  day,  Basedow's  were  introspective  and 
closely  knit  together.  Lavater's  eyes  were  clear,  serene,  and 
devout,  with  broad  lids  and  gently-arching  eyebrows  of  the 
softest  brown  :  Basedow's  were  deep-set,  and  peeped  forth 
sharp,  black,  and  small  from  under  bristling  eyebrows.  Bas- 
edow's rough,  fierce  voice,  his  abrupt  assertions,  a  kind  of 
scornful  laugh,  capricious  changes  of  the  conversation,  and 
in  fact  whatever  else  characterized  him  was  exactly  the 
opposite  of  all  the  qualities  to  which  Lavater  had  accus- 
tomed us." 


180  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

Observe  with  what  art  Goethe,  after  having  first  given 
us  a  general  sketch  of  Lavater,  now  fills  out  his  picture 
quite  accidentally,  and,  as  if  he  were  only  treating  of  Bas- 
edow,  gives  us  another  portrait  of  Lavater,  in  which  he 
shows  his  marvellous  ability  to  make  language  paint 
exactly  what  was  floating  before  his  mind :  no  one  has 
ever  been  able  to  describe  like  Goethe,  —  none  before 
him,  and  none  after  him. 

With  regard  to  Basedow's  theory  of  education,  I  refer 
you  to  "  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit."  These  theories  are  of 
importance  to-day,  as  contributions  to  the  ceaseless  efforts 
of  the  people  of  Europe  to  reconstruct  society  on  a  basis 
more  worthy  of  humanity, —  a  labor  which  seemed  on  the 
point  of  success,  when  the  French  revolution,  like  a  fright- 
ful fever,  came  in  and  completely  changed  the  course 
of  things.  Goethe  is  induced  by  Basedow  to  repeat  the 
journey  to  Ems. 

"  I  persuaded  my  father  and  friends  to  relieve  me  of  the 
necessary  business,  and  once  more  left  Frankfort  accom- 
panied by  Basedow.  But  what  a  difference,  when  I  remem- 
bered what  a  grace  had  emanated  from  Lavater !  Dainty  as 
he  was,  he  knew  how  to  make  all  his  surroundings  dainty, 
and  through  fear  of  annoying  him  one  became  like  a  maiden 
at  his  side.  Basedow  was  much  too  deeply  buried  in  him- 
self to  consider  his  outward  man.  He  smoked  uninterrupt- 
edly the  worst  tobacco,  which  was  extremely  disagreeable,  — • 
the  more  so  that  the  moment  his  pipe  went  out  he  lighted  it 
again  with  some  abominable  tinder  which  poisoned  the  air 
horribly.  I  called  this  preparation  the  '  Basedowschen 
Stinkschwamm,'  and  threatened  to  have  it  introduced  as  a 
new  species  into  natural  history,  which  amused  him  greatly." 

Goethe  now  further  describes  with  what  rapture  he 
met  Lavater  again,  and  the  experience  he  had  with  his 
two  friends  during  some  weeks  in  Ems  and  its  vicinity. 


HE  JOUKNEYS  WITH  LAVATER  AND  BASEDOW.  181 

We  realize  how  fresh  and  hopeful  intellectual  life  was  in 
Germany  at  that  time.  In  the  middle  of  July  they  left 
Ems  together ;  and  now  begins  the  well-known  journey, 
with  regard  to  which  we  have,  besides  Goethe's  account 
of  it,  Lavater's  own  diary  published  by  Hirzel. 

This  time  they  went  by  ship  from  Ems  down  the  Lahn 
to  the  Rhine.  Lavater  noted  briefly  but  constantly  every- 
thing that  happened,  as  if  he  were  framing  telegrams  to 
be  despatched  several  times  a  day.  This  excursion  by 
water  seems  to  have  transported  the  travellers  into  a 
higher  state  of  existence.  Opposite  Lahneck,  Goethe 
wrote  these  lines  :  — 

"High  upon  the  tower  old 
The  spirit  of  the  warrior  bold 
Stands,  and  from  the  turret  high 
Bids  God-speed  the  passer-by." 

How  life-like  these  verses  become,  when  we  think  that 
Goethe  himself  was  in  the  ship  and  that  the  lines  came 
fresh  from  his  soul ! 

We  read  farther  in  Lavater's  pencilling :  — 

"  We  are  passing  Lahnstein.     To  the  right  the  small  town 

of .     Went  on  shore.     Basedow  hurried  ahead,  went 

into  a  house  where  dinner  was  going  on,  fell  upon  it,  and 
ate  pork  and  beans  with  the  people.  All  followed.  Bustle, 
life,  and  fun  !  Again  on  board.  Chapel.  Passed  a  ruined 
castle.  Goethe  on  fellows  in  castles.  Now  from  the  Lahn 
into  the  Rhine.  Goethe  read.  We  passed  Horcheim.  For- 
tress and  valley  of  Ehrenbreitstein.  Floating  bridge  be- 
tween valley  and  Coblentz.  Left  boat  and  dined." 

In  "  Dichtungund  Wahrheit "  we  find  an  account  of  the 
sensation  their  appearance  created  in  Coblentz,  —  the  curi- 
ous crowd  which  surrounded  them  ;  the  discussions  at  the 
hotel  tables ;  Goethe's  exuberant  spirits ;  Lavater's  dis- 


182  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

creet  intermediation.  As  we  read  of  this  in  Goethe's 
calm  narration,  which  was  not  composed  until  many  years 
later,  it  does  not  sound  half  so  fresh  as  Lavater's  short 
sentences  noted  down  at  the  moment.  I  know  of  few 
memoranda  which  impress  the  fancy  with  such  a  sense  of 
reality  as  this  diary  of  Lavater's.  Strangely  enough,  it 
seems  as  if  not  he,  but  Goethe,  must  have  been  the  author 
of  it ;  yet  we  must  remember  that  it  was  Goethe  who 
adopted  Lavater's  style  of  writing,  although  to-day  the 
reverse  would  appear  to  have  been  more  natural. 
Wednesday,  July  20,  1774,  the  diary  continues :  — 

"  Morning,  after  six  o'clock,  on  ship-board,  under  wet  awn- 
ings ;  before  Schmoll  [Schmoll  was  one  of  the  party]  and 
close  to  Goethe  a  romantic  figure,  with  a  half-faded  love- 
knot  of  flowers  stuck  in  his  gray  hat,  who  devours  his  sand- 
wich like  a  wolf,  and  behind  his  brown  silk  neck-tie  and  gray 
capote-collar  is  looking  about  all  the  while  to  see  how  much 
breakfast  there  is  left." 

Goethe  always  forms  the  centre.  As  it  was  in  Stras- 
burg,  so  it  was  everywhere.  His  person  is  always  the 
one  best  worthy  of  description  :  we  see  how  he  impressed 
Lavater  and  the  others.  An  immense  vital  power  radiated 
from  him.  He  was  too  modest,  however,  to  be  conscious 
of  it,  yet  soon  feels  oppressed  and  uncomfortable  by  the 
side  of  Lavater  and  Basedow,  and  has  had  enough  of  their 
company.  He  does  not  wish  any  longer  to  be  dragged 
about  as  a  satellite  of  these  great  planets.  He  readily 
agreed  to  Lavater's  separating  from  him  for  a  time  at 
Cologne. 

The  meeting  with  Fritz  Jacobi  was  now  at  hand. 
Goethe  had  tried  often  to  find  a  friend  after  his  own 
heart,  and  now  it  seemed  as  if  his  wish  were  to  be  fulfilled. 
While  he  had  come  so  near  to  Lavater,  there  had  always 


HIS    DISTRUST   OF    LAVATER.  183 

been  something  which  estranged  them,  and  which  no 
amount  of  mutual  admiration  could  remove.  Goethe  met 
Lavater  again  on  his  return  journey,  when  the  united 
labor  on  the  "  Physiognomical  Fragments  "  was  planned  ; 
yet  he  was  always  on  his  guard  against  the  great  man, 
while  to  Jacobi,  for  the  first  and  last  time  in  his  life,  he 
wholly  surrendered  himself. 


184  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 


LECTURE  X. 

FRITZ   JACOBI.  —  SPINOZA. 

T^RIEDRICH  and  George  Jacob!  were  esteemed  authors 
when  Goethe  made  their  acquaintance.  George  the 
elder  was,  as  the  expression  is,  a  "  much  valued  "  poet, 
who  wrote  Frenchified  Anacreontics,  and  was  a  favorite 
contributor  to  journals  which  were  the  organ  for  poeti- 
cal productions  of  moderate  worth.  Every  educated 
nation  produces  a  certain  quantity  of  second-class  liter- 
ary writers,  who  associate  together,  and,  sustained  by  a 
cheerful  complacency,  often  lead  a  very  happy  existence. 
The  most  conspicuous  among  the  German  poets  of  this 
stamp  at  the  time  of  which  we  are  speaking  was  Gleim. 
The  others  flocked  around  him,  were  entertained  at  his 
house,  and  not  infrequently  taxed  his  purse.  Of  the  two 
brothers  Jacobi,  the  younger  Friedrich  Heinrich,  gen- 
erally called  Fritz  Jacobi,  is  alone  of  importance  to  us. 
Born  in  1743,  he  was  thirty-one  years  of  age  when  he  met 
Goethe,  who  was  then  twenty-five  years  old. 

Fritz  Jacobi  had  come  to  Frankfort-on-the-Main  when 
he  was  very  young,  and  had  there,  as  well  as  subsequently 
in  a  wider  field,  received  a  mercantile  training.  His  re- 
ligious tendencies,  and  a  strong  desire  to  educate  himself 
scientifically,  exposed  him  to  many  jokes,  which  however 
never  disconcerted  him.  After  having  won  a  large  cir- 
cle of  acquaintances,  he  returned  to  Diisseldorf  to  take 


HIS    FRIENDSHIP   WITH   JACOBI.  185 

charge  of  his  father's  business.  By  degrees,  however, 
this  became  perfectly  unendurable  to  him,  and  he  obtained 
a  place  in  the  Exchequer  of  the  Elector,  —  Dusseldorf  at 
that  time  belonging  to  the  Palatinate ;  and  when  Goethe 
came  to  Dusseldorf  he  found  Jacobi,  as  counsellor  of  the 
Elector,  holding  a  very  important  position.  Through 
Wieland  Jacobi  had  come  to  know  Sophie  Laroche, 
through  whom  again  his  wife  and  sisters,  who  were  also 
superior  people,  had  made  the  acquaintance  of  Goethe's 
sister  Cornelia,  whom  they  had  visited  in  Frankfort. 
Goethe  had  maintained  a  correspondence  for  a  long  time 
with  these  ladies,  and  an  acquaintance  with  the  brother 
naturally  followed. 

After  the  death  of  Jacobi's  wife,  his  sister  Helen  be- 
came his  confidential  secretary,  and  was  often  a  medium 
between  him  and  Goethe.  Goethe  characterized  her  at 
that  time  as  single-hearted.  Jacobi's  wife,  who  was 
saved  by  an  early  death  from  sharing  the  troubled 
moods  of  his  later  years,  must  have  been  as  beautiful 
as  she  was  charming.  Goethe  says  of  her  :  "  Free  from 
any  trace  of  sentimentality,  she  has  good  sense  with 
a  lively  way  of  expressing  herself ;  a  glorious  Nether- 
lander, who  without  the  sensual  expression,  yet  in  her 
strong  healthy  nature  reminds  one  of  the  women  of  Ru- 
bens." Goethe  here,  while  he  seems  only  to  describe  this 
one  woman,  reveals  the  secret  of  all  the  women  painted 
by  that  great  artist.  Jacobi  has  also  represented  his  wife 
in  his  romance  of  "Allwill."  Her  character  is  the  best 
thing  in  the  book :  the  letters  he  attributes  to  her  in  this 
book  are  fascinating,  and  plainly  her  own  letters  were  in 
his  mind  as  models.  Still,  her  character  only  comes  out 
strongly  when  we  add  to  this  what  Goethe  has  said  of 
her. 

She  was  living  at  the  time  of  whioh  we  are  speaking,  in 


186  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

the  prime  of  life,  surrounded  by  her  children.  Jacobi  in 
summer  left  his  house  in  the  city  and  removed  to  Pempel- 
fort.  At  present  this  same  house  and  garden  belong  to 
the  Artists'  Union,  "  Malkasten,"  through  which  happy 
circumstance  it  retains  its  old  ideal  renown. 

The  cathedral,  with  the  well-known  crane,  then  stood  a 
hopeless  ruin,  for  it  was  not  until  more  than  thirty  years 
later  that  the  brothers  Boisserde,  who  must  be  regarded  as 
the  second  founders  of  it,  began  the  rebuilding.  But  the 
city  still  stood,  filled  with  venerable  churches,  halls,  and 
houses,  whose  destruction  took  place  in  the  times  of  the 
French.  Among  them,  but  undisturbed,  with  a  garden 
belonging  to  it,  was  the  house  of  the  celebrated  Banker 
Jabach,  who  had  already  been  dead  a  century  ;  and  in 
it,  on  the  spot  where  it  was  painted,  the  best  picture,  by 
his  friend  Lebrun,  who  has  represented  Jabach  in  the 
midst  of  his  family  circle.  Goethe  wished  this  picture 
to  have  a  place  in  some  public  collection,  and  to-day  it 
is  to  be  found  in  the  Berlin  museum.  Silent  and  de- 
serted, like  the  old  rooms,  this  picture  presided  over  the 
well-kept  domestic  utensils  of  the  last  century,  a  monu- 
ment of  past  times  and  of  the  reverence  of  the  present. 
This  house  became  to  Goethe  a  symbol  which  filled  his 
mind  with  vivid  pictures  of  days  of  former  greatness. 
While  in  his  description  of  it  he  gave  full  play  to  these 
impressions,  he  gained  the  right  tone  in  which  to  intro- 
duce the  narration  of  what  awaited  him  in  Diisseldorf. 

With  regard  to  Goethe's  and  Jacobi's  intercourse  we 
remark,  that  their  correspondence  has  been  published  by 
Max  Jacobi.  Zoppritz  has  edited  two  volumes  of  Jacobi's 
posthumous  papers.  Scholl,  in  his  letters  and  treatises, 
has  however  given  us  the  best  idea  of  the  friendship  be- 
tween them.  Goethe  was  happy  in  Pempelfort.  Sepa- 
rated from  friends,  family,  and  home,  he  would  for  once 


HIS  EARLY  UNION  WITH  JACOBI  COMPLETE.      187 

appear  only  what  he  had  made  himself  —  a  self-sustained, 
self-conscious  author.  He  introduced  himself  in  this 
character  to  Jacobi,  and  was  so  received  by  him.  Jacobi 
wholly  disregards  the  difference  in  age,  but  at  the  same 
time  he  does  not  treat  Goethe  as  the  exotic  young  genius 
who  has  no  equal :  he  feels  himself  of  some  importance 
also.  They  had  each  of  them  an  overwhelming  desire  to 
be  once  fully  understood.  They  surrendered  themselves 
one  to  the  other,  as  two  seas,  between  which  the  dam  has 
given  way,  mingle  their  floods,  while  the  fishes  swim 
hither  and  thither.  Goethe  tells  us  how  one  evening, 
after  they  had  talked  until  a  late  hour  and  then  parted  in 
order  to  sleep,  they  once  more  sought  each  other,  and 
standing  at  the  window  continued  the  conversation  deep 
into  the  night,  while  the  moonlight  quivered  on  the 
throbbing  breast  of  the  Rhine.  This  was  on  the  return 
journey  when  Jacobi  accompanied  his  friend.  At  the 
time  Goethe  was  writing  "  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit,"  and 
sent  to  Jacobi  for  material,  the  latter  mentioned  this 
moonlight-talk,  and  bade  him  try  to  recall  it  to  his  rec- 
ollection. "When  we  separated,"  —  I  quote  the  words 
of  "  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit,"  —  "  we  separated  with  the 
feeling  of  an  eternal  union." 

Goethe  had  already  had  experience  enough  to  know 
that  it  is  always  a  dangerous  experiment  to  surrender 
oneself  wholly  to  the  influence  of  another.  He  had  seen 
on  the  Rhine  journey  how  Lavater  had  been  tempted  to  use 
his  spiritual  —  yes,  his  clerical  —  power  for  a  worldly  pur- 
pose. He  discerned  that  what  he  had  at  first  supposed  to 
be  pure  nature  was  only  the  finest  kind  of  acting,  which 
by  degrees  became  a  second  nature  in  Lavater.  Goethe 
was  compelled  to  recognize  this  all  the  more  that  he 
already  saw  the  necessity  of  assuming  a  certain  man- 
ner himself  in  his  intercourse  with  men.  He  however 


188  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

assumed  this  manner  not  for  the  purpose  of  gaining  any- 
thing, but  simply  to  protect  himself  and  to  keep  himself 
free.  In  Jacobi  he  now  met  with  a  nature  whose  entire 
purity  and  absence  of  anything  like  premeditation  de- 
lighted him,  and  whose  wealth  of  intellectual  resources 
corresponded  to  his  demands.  Here  is  his  first  letter 
after  they  parted  :  — 

"I  dream  that  I  see  you,  dear  Fritz,  have  your  letter,  and 
hover  about  you.  You  have  felt  what  a  delight  it  is  to  me 
to  be  the  object  of  your  love.  Oh,  it  is  glorious  that  each 
believes  he  receives  more  from  the  other  than  he  gives  !  Oh 
love,  love  !  the  poverty  of  riches  !  And  what  power  it  creates 
in  me,  —  or,  in  other  words,  allows  to  stream  in  upon  me, — 
when  I  welcome  in  another  what  is  wanting  in  myself,  and  can 
give  to  him  in  addition  what  I  have !  Believe  me,  we  could 
be  dumb  to  each  other  from  now  on,  and  in  after  times  when 
we  met  again,  it  would  be  as  if  we  had  moved  on  together 
steadily  hand  in  hand.  We  should  be  united  over  things 
which  we  had  not  discussed." 

Goethe  never  wrote  again  in  this  strain.  What  could 
have  dissolved  such  a  friendship  ?  In  one  respect  only 
Goethe  had  not  been  able  immediately  to  judge  his  new 
friend.  He  could  not  know  how  much  of  Jacobi's  per- 
sonality was  based  on  his  own  ideas,  and  how  much  was 
derived  from  others. 

Jacobi  had  a  marked  influence  on  his  century,  was  re- 
spected by  the  best  people  even  to  his  old  age,  and  has 
left  behind  a  name  whose  fame  still  lingers.  With  such 
men,  especially  if  they  have  been  fruitful  writers,  it  is  not 
difficult  to  take  in  at  a  glance  their  whole  career,  and  to 
find  out  the  peculiar  emphasis  of  their  character.  There 
was  great  receptiveness  in  Jacobi's  nature  :  he  was  in  too 
large  a  measure  dependent  on  the  sentiments  which  friends 
and  books  supplied  to  him,  and  mistook  enthusiastic  re- 


JACOBl's    IMITATION   OF    GOETHE.  189 

production  for  inspired  production.  Goethe  had  taken 
with  him  his  yet  unpublished  "  Werther,"  and  either  read 
it  to  Jacobi  or  told  him  about  it.  Jacobi,  inflamed  by 
the  feeling,  reproduced  Goethe's  fiction  in  two  works  of 
his  own  ;  one  of  which  called  "  Allwill's  Collection  of  Let- 
ters "  appeared  even  before  "Werther"  itself.  Allwill  is 
meant  for  Goethe.  As  early  as  the  autumn  of  1774  the 
first  of  these  letters  came  out  in  the  "  German  Mercury  ;  " 
for  this  romance,  like  "  Werther,"  was  also  in  the  form  of 
letters.  Jacobi  describes  a  simple  family  (his  own),  into 
which  suddenly  a  fiery  young  genius  enters.  Later,  when 
the  end  of  the  book  was  published,  the  character  of  the 
hero  was  found  to  be  essentially  changed  from  what  it  was 
in  the  opening  chapters.  Julian  Schmidt  first  pointed  out 
that  this  change  was  coincident  with  Jacobi's  later  feel- 
ing, which  through  Goethe's  own  fault  certainly  had  been 
cooled  in  a  cruel  way,  Allwill's  letters  are  so  very  much 
in  Goethe's  style  that  Lavater  imagined  Goethe  to  be  the 
author  of  them  ;  for,  while  Goethe  had  adopted  Lavater's 
style  of  writing,  Jacobi  in  this  new  style  had  imitated 
Goethe's.  And  here  we  see  very  clearly  the  difference 
between  nature  and  exaggeration.  Goethe  takes  natu- 
rally what  suits  him ;  but  Jacobi  rushes  forward  in  con- 
scious imitation  of  Goethe,  and  seeks  to  outdo  him. 
Jacobi's  letters,  composed  in  the  first  moment  of  giddy 
excitement,  sound  to  us  to-day  empty,  odious,  and  vapid ; 
while  Goethe's  inspired  bursts  of  passion,  rather  gushing 
to  be  sure,  are  still  natural  and  full  of  meaning. 

Still  more  striking  is  the  imitation  in  Jacobi's  second 
work,  the  romance  of  "  Woldemar,"  which  appeared  five 
years  later  when  Goethe  was  already  in  Weimar.  This 
is  such  an  odd,  insipid  production  that  the  reader  of  to- 
day could  scarcely  get  beyond  the  first  pages.  Goethe's 
Werther  sees  the  impossibility  of  entering  into  any 


190  LIFE  AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

natural  relations  with  the  wife  of  his  friend  whom  he 
loves,  and  destroys  himself.  His  fate  has  something 
comprehensible  and  logical  in  it :  he  should  have  flown 
earlier,  but  this  we  see  with  him  is  beyond  his  power. 
Jacobi's  lovers,  on  the  other  hand,  provoke  their  fate  in 
the  most  cold-blooded  manner.  He  presents  to  us  an 
excellent  young  man,  eminent  for  knowledge  and  refine- 
ment, the  lover  of  a  maiden  equally  superior,  —  Wolde- 
mar  and  Henriette.  There  exists  no  cogent  reason  why 
they  should  not  be  married ;  for  that  Henriette  is  not 
beautiful,  and  that  Woldemar's  old  father  is  opposed  to 
the  union  are  secondary  things,  not  taken  into  consider- 
ation. But  they  do  not  marry,  because  they  love  each 
other  so  very  much  that  they  feel  an  earthly  tie  would 
be  out  of  harmony  with  their  pure  spiritual  affinity.  In 
pursuance  of  these  views  Woldemar  marries  Henriette's 
friend,  Allwine,  who  in  good  time  gives  promise  of  a 
child.  Jacobi  has  described  this  second  relation  in  the 
purest  and  most  charming  colors.  At  the  same  time  the 
spiritual  marriage  with  Henriette  continues  :  but  the  im- 
possibility of  such  a  tie,  whose  very  nature  is  incompre- 
hensible to  them,  grows  ever  more  and  more  apparent; 
and  the  romance  closes  abruptly  with  a  passionate  conver- 
sation between  Woldemar  and  Henriette,  in  which  they  do 
not  understand  each  other,  and  which  lets  us  see  in  per- 
spective the  destruction  of  all  the  characters  concerned. 

It  is  true,  as  Wilhelm  Scherer  first  discovered,  that 
Jacobi's  own  experience  furnished  the  material  which  is 
here  presented  to  us  in  romantic  guise,  and  has  enabled 
us  to  understand  how  he  came  to  conceive  such  a  plot ; 
but  this  does  not  mitigate  the  intolerable  impression  the 
book  makes. 

"  Woldemar"  was,  however,  received  with  enthusiasm, 
and  Jacobi  reckoned  surely  upon  Goethe's  approval  of  it, 


HOW   HE   EECEIYES   JACOBl's    "  WOLDEMAR."     191 

when  awful  things  reached  his  ears  from  Weimar.  It 
was  said  that  the  book,  in  the  beautiful  cover  in  which  it 
had  been  sent  to  Goethe,  had  been  nailed  by  him  to  a  tree 
in  Ettersburg,  as  we  nail  some  evil  bird  to  the  gable  of  a 
barn,  and  had  been  jeered  at !  This  was  gossiped  about 
all  over  Germany.  And  still  another  outrage  had  been 
perpetrated  upon  the  book,  such  as  Voltaire  alone  was  sup- 
posed to  be  capable  of  committing.  Goethe  had,  with  some 
slight  alterations,  so  changed  the  meaning  of  the  last  few 
pages  that  the  devil  comes  and  bears  off  Woldemar  !  Now 
Jacobi  writes  an  affecting  letter  :  so  and  so  you  have  done 
to  me,  he  says,  and  then  he  quotes  passages  from  Goethe's 
letters,  in  which  Goethe  avows  before  God  and  in  the  face 
of  Providence  that  Jacobi  is  beyond  all  others  his  heart's 
friend.  Goethe  was  so  crest-fallen  that  he  dared  not 
make  any  reply  to  this  letter.  He  charged  a  third  person 
to  say  to  Jacobi  that  the  thing  was  not  so  badly  intended, 
that  he  would  write  himself ;  but  no  letter  was  written. 
Goethe  once  quoted  the  axiom  of  Bernhard  of  Weimar, 
"  that  one  should  never  make  apologies."  This  was  in 
keeping  with  his  nature.  He  often  reproached  himself 
when  alone  for  what  he  had  done  or  had  omitted  to  do  ; 
but,  among  all  his  letters,  I  know  of  only  two  or  three  in 
which  he  openly  confesses  any  such  thing.  Four  years 
after  these  events  happened,  however,  he  wrote  to  Jacobi, 
acknowledging  the  wrong  he  had  done  and  begging  to  be 
forgiven.  He  says  in  the  letter:  "As  we  become  older 
and  the  world  more  contracted  to  us,  we  think  often  with 
pain  of  the  days  when  for  mere  pastime  we  trifled  with 
our  friends  ;  when  in  wanton  merriment  we  were  uncon- 
scious of  the  wounds  inflicted,  or  did  not  exert  ourselves 
to  heal  them."  Jacobi  answered  immediately.  Goethe 
sent  him  his  "  Iphigenia,"  and  they  never  again  had  any 
serious  falling  out  with  each  other. 


192  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

With  Jacobi's  years  increased  his  tendency  towards 
the  supernatural.  In  his  special  department  he  was 
passionate  and  controversial.  He  sends  his  polemical 
writings  to  Goethe,  who  often  expresses  very  sharply  to 
him  his  disapprobation  of  them.  Even  in  the  earliest 
years  of  their  friendship  Goethe  had  frequently  taken 
occasion  openly  to  lament  the  printing  of  such  things ; 
but  in  spite  of  these  harsh  reproofs  and  disagreements 
they  remained  friends.  Jacobi  had  a  wonderful  way  of 
bearing  all  this  opposition  from  Goethe,  and  they  were 
always  conscious  of  cherishing  the  best  intentions  toward 
one  another.  We  see  later  that  when  Jacobi's  son  comes 
to  Goethe  he  is  received  by  him  like  a  member  of  his 
family.  Goethe  first  confided  to  him  his  "  Hermann  and 
Dorothea,"  in  the  year  1796  ;  and  so  this  friendship  was 
carried  on  from  father  to  son.  Hence,  later,  the  editing 
of  the  letters  fullilled  by  the  son  as  a  sacred  privilege. 
Properly  speaking,  the  grandchild,  the  son  of  Max  Jacobi, 
should  have  published  them ;  but  the  young  man  died  before 
their  completion,  and  the  work  fell  back  upon  his  father. 

There  is  something  beautiful  in  the  authentic  accounts, 
which  by  degrees  find  their  way  to  the  light,  of  the  families 
with  whom  Goethe  stood  in  the  tenderest  relations. 
Everywhere  are  disclosed  the  purest  and  most  elevated 
sympathies,  even  where  an  entirely  harmonious  tone  is 
wanting  ;  and  an  interest  in  spiritual  problems  forms  the 
basis  of  the  intercourse. 

On  his  first  meeting  with  Jacobi,  Goethe  talked  of  the 
man  whose  writings  had  a  more  powerful  effect  upon  him 
than  all  the  philosophy  which  Herder,  Lavater,  or  Jacobi 
offered  him,  —  Spinoza.  The  violent  opposition  to  Spinoza 
in  which  Jacobi  stood  all  his  life  explains  why  they  fell 
upon  this  subject  immediately,  Goethe  having  become 
acquainted  with  his  theories  much  earlier.  Jacobi's  fame 


SPINOZA'S  GREAT  INFLUENCE  ON  GOETHE.      193 

rested  in  part  upon  the  position  he  held  toward  Spinoza. 
A  controversy  which  he  had  with  Lessing  in  the  latter 
years  of  that  poet's  life  also  makes  him  of  importance  to- 
day to  many  who  otherwise  would  scarcely  have  known  of 
him.  Jacobi  exerted  himself  to  the  utmost  to  contend 
against  what  he  denominated  "  Spinozism."  And  here 
we  must  mention  the  deeper  reason  why  Goethe  at  this 
time  discussed  Spinoza.  Spinoza's  philosophy  possessed 
everything  which  Goethe  must  have  missed  later  in 
Jacobi's  philosophy.  Indeed,  the  acquaintance  with  Spin- 
oza forms  an  important  epoch  in  Goethe's  development. 

In  considering  Goethe's  entire  life,  we  remark  "two 
facts  which  I  will  call  fundamental  facts  in  his  life. 

The  first  was  that,  so  far  as  we  know,  he  never  experi- 
enced anything  which  wholly  took  him  out  of  himself,  and 
that  even  when  he  appears  most  passionately  excited  he 
still  retains  the  power  to  criticise  himself.  With  him, 
therefore,  events  and  his  subsequent  reflections  upon  them 
must  always  be  carefully  distinguished.  When  Goethe 
writes  to  Frau  von  Stein,  separated  from  her  and  alone, 
his  feelings  are  more  intense  than  when  near  her ;  not 
until  he  reflects  upon  it  does  his  passion  burst  forth  in 
all  its  intensity.  So,  too,  his  relation  to  Lotte  becomes 
comprehensible  only  when  we  see  how  his  passion  exhibits 
itself  in  the  hours  when  he  is  absent  from  her. 

The  second  was  that  Goethe  does  not  mention  any 
living  man,  or  any  contemporary  book,  that  fully  meets 
the  wants  of  his  nature;  no  man  who  could  excite  in  him 
the  feeling,  "  Such  I  would  like  to  have  been !  "  and  no 
book  over  which  he  might  have  thought,  "  This  is  what  I 
would  have  written,  but  it  is  better  than  I  could  have  writ- 
ten it."  He  was  enthusiastic  about  Herder  only  as  a 
learner,  and  after  the  first  intoxication  was  over  returned 
to  a  consciousness  of  his  own  position.  And  so  he  soon 

13 


194  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

recovered  from  his  infatuation  about  Lavatcr  and  Jacobi, 
and  no  one  came  after  them  by  whom  he  allowed  himself 
to  be  deluded  as  he  had  been  by  these  three  men.  As  soon 
as  he  had  gained  some  measure  of  experience  in  life,  he 
always  knew  beforehand  that  in  time  all  these  brilliant  me- 
teors would  cease  to  dazzle  him,  and  that  he  should  once 
more  be  sustained  by  his  own  independent  judgment. 

In  contemplating  all  the  influences  which  tended  to 
develop  Goethe  we  find  that  there  were  only  four  men  who 
had  a  lasting  effect  upon  him,  who  as  it  were  lived  in  his 
soul  never  to  be  displaced, — Homer,  Shakspeare,  Raphael, 
and*  Spinoza.  These  men  were  to  him  representatives  of 
the  four  mighty  elements  from  whose  workings  our  Eu- 
ropean culture,  or  the  mental  conditions  within  which  we 
live  and  labor,  arose  and  is  still  arising. 

It  is  impossible  to  trace  all  the  sources  of  human  cult- 
ure. We  do  not  know  the  origin  of  language ;  we  do 
not  know  whence  art  came ;  we  do  not  know  how  politi- 
cal life  first  grew  up.  Even  if  we  limit  ourselves  to  Eu- 
rope, we  do  not  know  from  whence  came  the  European 
man  as  ruler  of  our  continent, — that  is  to  say,  when  and 
how  the  emigrator  or  the  native-born  aborigine  raised 
himself  to  be  the  specific  bearer  of  the  culture  which,  as 
an  ancient  inheritance,  we  are  laboring  ourselves  to  en- 
rich. We  have  only  conjectures  of  later  origin,  which 
lead  one  of  these  questions  in  a  definite  direction  in 
which  an  answer  possibly  may  lie.  We  have  only  hypoth- 
eses with  regard  to  our  primary  condition.  The  great 
emigrations  from  Asia  which  brought  to  us  the  noble  sci- 
ons to  be  engrafted  on  our  wild  stock,  and  who  figure  now 
as  prehistoric  peoples,  rest  only  upon  an  hypothesis  of  the 
philologist.  The  Greeks  believed  that  they  had  grown  out 
of  the  rocky  soil  of  their  native  land.  Tacitus  coolly  con- 
cludes that  this  must  also  have  been  the  case  with  the 


ORIGIN    OF   EUROPEAN    CIVILIZATION.          195 

Germans,  since  it  is  inconceivable  that  foreign  settlers 
should  have  chosen  such  an  inhospitable  soil.  But  even 
if  we  do  not  question  these  emigrations,  which  by  de- 
grees caused  Celts,  Germans,  and  Sclaves  to  come  from 
the  East  through  one,  two,  or  three  thousand  years  to 
crowd  in  upon  us  here ;  even  if  we  accept  what  appears 
beyond  doubt  to  be  the  fact,  that  the  Jews  once  were  con- 
centred in  Palestine,  a  firmly  established  people,  and  did 
not  live  scattered  like  exiles,  which  is  the  only  way  we 
can  conceive  of  them  to-day,  —  yet  as  we  study  history 
practically  all  these  conjectures  fall  away,  and  we  draw 
our  conclusions  only  from  what  we  positively  know.  It 
is  not  possible  to  separate  the  European  nations  from  the 
territory  they  inhabit  to-day  ;  or,  in  relation  to  their  inter- 
ests, to  treat  of  them  separately  and  alone.  Greeks,  Ro- 
mans, Germans,  Semitic,"  Celtic,  and  Sclavonic  races  form 
a  community  irrevocably  bound  to  its  clod  of  earth  ;  each, 
however,  exhibiting  the  unchangeable  national  peculiari- 
ties which  arose  from  the  character  of  their  original  fa- 
therland. This  community  seems  to  have  been  from  the 
beginning  what  we  see  it  to-day,  which  as  a  whole  pro- 
duces what  constitutes  our  present  intellectual  life,  and 
ever  has  produced  it  so  far  as  we  have  any  knowledge  of 
it.  The  preservation  and  progress  of  this  is  given  to  our 
children  as  a  sacred  legacy ;  and  we  quietly  let  the  matter 
drop  with  regard  to  the  future,  even  if  we  can  imagine  a 
future  in  which  all  the  things  of  to-day,  to  the  very  last 
echo  of  fabulous  recollection,  shall  have  died  away. 

Among  the  elemental  races  the  Greeks,  Germans,  Ro- 
mans, and  Semites  are  specially  to  be  considered.  We 
learn  in  the  different  periods  of  history  how  they  loved 
and  hated  each  other ;  how  they  disowned  and  then  again 
courted  each  other ;  were  united  and  then  rent  asunder. 
We  observe  at  times  what  heroic  attempts  they  made  to 


196  LIFE  A:NT>  TIMES  OF  GOETHE. 

isolate  themselves  ;  but  they  do  not  succeed,  and  the  con- 
viction that  they  are  essential  to  each  other  ever  finally 
becomes  the  ruling  one. 

I  will  not  say  that  the  four  men  whom  I  have  men- 
tioned are  in  themselves  the  most  distinguished  repre- 
sentatives of  these  four  elemental  peoples,  or  that  they 
have  produced  none  mightier ;  for  with  Homer  we  should 
mention  Phidias  and  Plato ;  by  the  side  of  Raphael, 
Michael  Angelo  and  Dante ;  with  Shakspeare,  Luther ; 
and  with  Spinoza,  the  men  of  the  Old  and  New  Testa- 
ments: but  in  Goethe's  mind  Homer,  Shakspeare,  Raphael, 
and  Spinoza  occupied  the  first  place.  In  the  degree  in 
which  he  became  acquainted  with  them  the  feeling  of  a 
common  humanity  sprang  up  in  him,  as  distinct  from  all 
that  was  merely  national ;  and  he  was  indebted  to  them 
for  an  introduction  to  the  historic  views  on  which  his 
own  mental  growth  depended. 

Homer  and  Shakspeare  were  first  known  to  him.  It 
was  in  Strasburg  and  Frankfort  that  the  might  of  these 
kings  among  men  became  revealed  to  him ;  and  now 
Spinoza  was  added  to  them.  Goethe's  attitude  towards 
Homer  and  Shakspeare  is  easier  to  comprehend  than  to- 
wards Spinoza,  because  the  first  two  exercise  over  us 
to-day  the  old  power ;  and  all  attempts  to  deprive  Homer 
of  his  individuality,  or  to  depreciate  Shakspeare,  do  not 
affect  it.  Spinoza,  on  the  contrary,  is  less  known,  and 
from  various  causes  stands,  at  present,  much  farther  re- 
moved from  us. 

And  here  a  digression  is  necessary,  in  order  to  lay 
clearly  before  you  Goethe's  point  of  view.  Goethe  had 
grown  up  in  a  religious  family,  and  in  full  knowledge  of 
what  the  Christian  faith  rests  on.  He  who  to-day  can 
repeat  the  Lord's  prayer,  the  ten  commandments,  the 
creed,  and  some  hymns  without  hesitation,  and  who 


HIS    KNOWLEDGE    OF    THEOLOGY.  197 

knows  something  about  the  books  of  the  Old  and  New 
Testaments  and  the  history  of  the  Church,  believes  him- 
self well  instructed  in  religious  matters.  But  in  the  last 
century  it  was  quite  different.  The  comprehension  of 
the  Christianity  of  the  former  century,  as  an  historical 
fact,  becomes  again  of  importance  now  that  our  whole 
spiritual  development  seems  colored  by  its  religious  ten- 
dency. Whatever  our  own  personal  belief  may  be,  we 
must  at  any  rate  make  ourselves  familiar  with  the  whole 
course  of  religious  development  in  Germany.  Everybody 
in  the  last  century  was  well  versed  in  the  Bible,  and 
thoroughly  schooled  in  the  differences  of  the  creeds  and 
sects  even  to  the  subtleties,  which  are  now-a-days  familiar 
to  the  professional  theologian  alone.  As  at  present  every 
one  is  acquainted  with  what  concerns  the  army,  and 
every  family  knows  all  the  necessary  facts  about  its 
organization,  its  duties,  promotions,  etc.,  as  well  as  where 
the  different  regiments  are  stationed,  and  who  the  com- 
manders are  in  the  prominent  places,  because  every  fam- 
ily is  in  some  way  or  other  connected  with  the  army, — so 
at  that  time  men  were  at  home  in  all  matters  appertain- 
ing to  the  Church,  and  knew  the  names  and  relative  im- 
portance of  the  leading  ministers.  In  science,  poetry,  and 
theology  alone  was  free  discussion  or  agitation  allowed, 
as  has  been  already  said.  Who  would  really  catch  the 
flavor  of  this  state  of  things  should  read  the  romance  of 
the  (during  his  life)  renowned  Berlin  bookseller  Nicolai, 
— "  Sebaldus  Nothanker."  The  four  volumes  contain 
nothing  but  a  series  of  rows  between  the  hero  —  who  is  a 
philosophic,  liberal,  open-hearted  country  preacher  —  and 
Fate,  in  the  shape  of  some  bigoted  old  theological  wrestlers. 
Without  an  acquaintance  with  these  circumstances  it  is 
impossible  to  have  an  idea  of  the  fights  into  which  Les- 
sing  was  constantly  drawn,  or  to  comprehend  the  power  of 


198  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

Herder,  who  as  a  free-thinking  theologian  had  made  him- 
self master  of  all  the  subjects  that  were  in  fermentation 
about  him.  Goethe  had  been,  even  as  a  child,  initiated  in 
these  matters,  through  his  connection  with  the  Moravian 
Fraulein  von  Klettenberg.  And  again  in  Strasburg  he 
made  use  of  an  introduction  he  had  taken  with  him  to  a 
family  inclined  to  this  faith.  Goethe  was  therefore  per- 
fectly familiar  with  the  Bible.  The  active  part  he  took  in 
the  religious  discussions  of  the  day,  as  shown  by  a  number 
of  his  essays  on  the  leading  topics  and  his  intimate  friend- 
ship with  the  prophet  Lavater,  was  natural.  Goethe's 
earliest  poem  is  a  bombastic  song  on  the  "  Descent  of 
Christ  into  Hell,"  which  is  in  the  ranting  style  of  the 
preachers  of  the  last  century ;  but  nevertheless  we  ob- 
serve that  while  he  was  perfectly  at  home  on  religious 
subjects  they  never  completely  absorbed  him,  nor  turned 
him  aside  from  ideas  which  came  from  other  sources. 

Herder  and  Lavater  were  to  him  the  two  great  streams 
whose  unsteady  current  bore  onward  the  ecclesiastical  life 
of  the  time.  Herder  started  from  an  historical  point. 
Through  his  tendencies  to  the  universal  he  attempted  to 
utilize  Hebrew  and  Greek  literature,  under  whose  con- 
joined influence  the  early  Church  was  formed.  He  rec- 
ognized in  the  Christian  idea  the  mightiest  lever  which 
had  ever  been  applied  to  lift  the  sinking  spiritual  life 
of  European  nations.  Herder  gives  us  in  magnificent 
and  even  to-day  thrilling  language  an  historical  confir- 
mation, drawn  from  universal  literature,  to  the  fact  of  the 
revolution  by  which  Paganism  fell  before  a  new  regen- 
erating power  which  had  come  into  the  world,  and  a  de- 
scription of  how  this  power  was  diffused  and  obtained  the 
mastery.  Hence  came  Herder's  extraordinary  respect 
for  Christianity.  But  it  was  only  respect.  Herder  was  a 
scholar.  Later  in  life,  when  influenced  by  his  work  as  a 


THE    GREAT    QUESTION   IN   RELIGION.          199 

minister,  his  convictions  became  somewhat  changed  ;  but 
they  always  rested  on  a  scientific  basis. 

Lavater  started  from  a  practical  point.  He  had  found 
out  by  experience  that  the  ethical  contents  of  the  Bible 
were  sufficient  to  meet  all  human  wants ;  that  remedy 
for  every  defect  was  therein  to  be  found  ;  and  that  faith 
leads  farther  than  knowledge.  And  he  lived  all  this  out  in 
his  own  way  :  he  appeared  as  a  prophet,  but  did  not  make 
converts  in  the  true  sense  of  the  word,  —  rather  sought 
to  win  sympathetic  disciples,  and  to  attach  them  to  him- 
self by  means  of  the  smoothest  diplomacy. 

Neither  of  the  two  men  could  offer  Goethe  anything. 
He  did  not  need  the  religion  which  either  Herder  or  La- 
vater held  to  be  the  best :  he  would  only  know  how  the 
solitary  man,  limited  to  himself,  stands  towards  tran- 
scendent realities.  He  could  better  have  learned  this  from 
Jung  Stilling  ;  but  Stilling  who  lived  and  moved  in  wholly 
Christian  ideas,  and  who  was  the  only  Pietist  in  whom 
Goethe  really  believed,  was  of  such  a  peculiar  nature  that 
one  could  learn  nothing  from  him.  It  would  have  been 
necessary  to  have  been  just  like  him. 

We  all  come  in  contact  with  the  great  question  of 
religious  need,  —  even  those  among  us  who  are  affected 
by  the  prevailing  scepticism,  or  who  have  been  educated 
in  such  indifference  to  the  Church  as  to  consider  such 
things  almost  foreign  to  them.  This,  however,  is  only 
in  appearance,  for  a  negative  relation  is  yet  a  relation. 
What  is  here  in  question  ?  The  question  is  not  how  to 
find  out  the  form  and  the  contents  of  religious  creeds,  or 
how  the  clergy  are  best  treated  and  ranked  for  the  good  of 
the  people,  or  what  the  relation  is  between  Church  and 
State,  or  how  we  understand  the  history  of  the  Church  or 
judge  the  critical  exegesis  of  the  Gospels ;  but  the  ques- 
tion is  how  to  ascertain,  without  any  concealment  from 


200  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

ourselves  of  our  deepest  spiritual  wants,  what  relation 
we  bear  to  things  which  lie  beyond  this  earthly  life 
and  human  experience.  This  question  arises  in  each  of 
us,  troubles  us,  and  will  not  be  thrust  aside ;  and  each 
takes  his  answer  from  any  source  that  can  satisfy  him. 
Whether  we  are  again  to  meet  the  departed,  and  how 
and  where ;  whether  we  shall  be  able  to  recall  the  past, 
and  what  our  new  existence  will  be ;  and  whether  in  this 
new  existence  there  will  be  yet  further  development,  —  of 
these  things  every  one  would  have  some  idea  :  if  it  be  only 
to  answer  "  No  "  to  these  questions,  he  would  have  some 
reason  for  this  "  No !  "  Now  the  religious  training  which 
Goethe  had  received  at  home,  and  the  Christianity  of 
Herder  and  Lavater  gave  him  nothing  which  he  could 
make  available  for  his  individual  needs.  He  cherished 
and  expressed  only  two  convictions  :  first,  that  there 
is  a  personal  God,  who  in  all  that  concerns  the  his- 
tory of  mankind  has  an  overruling  power  and  aim  ; 
second,  that  there  is  a  personal  immortality.  These 
two  articles  of  faith  Goethe  accepted,  without  giving  or 
desiring  proof ;  for  he  found  them  built  into  the  very 
groundwork  of  his  nature.  Beyond  these,  nothing  fur- 
tlier.  He  rejected  all  details.  All  supernaturalism,  de- 
manding more  than  these  two  ideas,  was  powerless  over 
him.  But  he  required,  what  every  man  should  require, 
a  theory  for  the  moral  organization  of  humanity,  and 
would  have  this  verified  by  the  surest  possible  proof. 

We  are  certain  that  we  are  all,  whether  high  or  low, 
members  of  one  fraternity.  We  feel  that  this  associa- 
tion is  no  merely  accidental  or  mechanical  one,  but  that 
within  it  a  great  intellectual  work  is  going  on,  which, 
pressing  forward  to  a  common  aim,  constitutes  its  cohe- 
sive and  impelling  power.  This  aim  we  call  the  "  Just," 
the  "  Good,"  the  "  Beautiful,"  the  "  Highest  Ideal,"  — 


BENEDICTUS    SPINOZA.  201 

"  God."  All  history  seems  the  effort  of  the  world  to  at- 
tain and  realize  this  final  highest  Good.  But  how  are  we 
to  know  it?  And  before  we  answer  this  question  we  ask, 
"  How  do  we  know  anything  ? "  The  man  who  has 
never  put  to  himself  these  questions,  and  who  has  never 
made  the  attempt  to  answer  them,  stands  on  a  very  low 
plane.  But  to  find  an  answer  here  is  not  possible  with- 
out much  practice  of  the  thinking  powers,  and  therefore 
we  study  philosophy.  For  this  reason  the  study  of  phi- 
losophy is  something  that  has  been  recognized  in  all  ages 
as  of  the  highest  interest. 

Goethe,  in  the  degree  that  he  towered  above  other  men, 
was  the  more  keenly  alive  to  the  study  of  these  earnest 
problems ;  and  now  as  he  looked  about  for  a  master,  no 
philosopher  satisfied  him  like  Spinoza.  We  see  Goethe 
during  his  long  life  testing  many  philosophical  systems, 
and  coming  in  personal  contact  with  many  philosophers  ; 
but  Spinoza's  system  is  the  only  one  to  which  he  adheres, 
and  which  he  never  criticises.  He  says  modestly  that  he 
did  not  know  what  he  picked  out  of  Spinoza's  u  Ethics  ;  " 
but  the  book  attracted  him,  and  contained  secrets  which 
were  useful  to  him. 

Let  us  now  sec  how  Spinoza's  book  was  written. 

Baruch,  or  (the  name  being  translated  into  Latin)  Beno 
dictus,  Spinoza  was  born  in  Amsterdam  in  1632.  %  He  be- 
longed to  a  Jewish-Portuguese  family.  From  Portugal, 
where  the  Jews  were  treated  in  a  most  inhumali  manner, 
one  of  the  greatest  emigrations  started.  The  Jewish 
colony  arrived  by  ship  in  Holland,  and  there,  while  retain- 
ing a  constitution  of  their  own,  occupied  a  distinguished 
position  in  the  body-politic.  If  we  look  at  Rembrandt's 
pictures  and  etchings  of  Biblical  events,  we  shall  see 
that  the  persons  represented  from  the  Old  and  New  Tes- 
taments wear  a  very  peculiar  costume,  —  the  men  in  long 


202  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

kaftans  and  fur-trimmed  garments,  and  the  women  with 
very  curious  ornaments.  This  was  the  costume  of  the 
Portuguese  Jews  living  in  Holland,  which  Rembrandt 
found  artistically  appropriate,  and  which  is  in  such  strik- 
ing contrast  to  the  garments  in  which  the  Italian  artists 
of  the  classic  age  draped  the  same  figures. 

Spinoza  carried  his  dissent  from  the  religion  of  his  peo- 
ple so  far,  that  he  was  first  cast  out  of  the  synagogue  and 
then  out  of  the  Jewish  community.  Gutzkow  lias  made 
such  a  banishment  the  subject  of  his  "  Uriel  Acosta," 
and  gives  us  an  idea  of  what  passions  here  came  into 
play.  Spinoza  went  to  a  Holland  physician  of  whom  he 
learned  Greek  and  Latin.  He  had  a  love  affair  with  the 
daughter  of  this  man,  which,  however,  did  not  end  in  a 
union.  I  may  as  well  add  at  once  that  he  never  mar- 
ried. He  was  a  lonely  being,  rejected  by  his  own  people. 
An  attempt  was  even  made,  on  the  part  of  the  Jewish 
community  in  Amsterdam,  to  assassinate  him ;  but  he 
escaped.  He  threw  himself  wholly  into  his  philosophical 
studies  ;  but  at  the  suggestion  of  his  teacher  Descartes 
he  learned  to  cut  optical  glasses,  by  which  he  gained  an 
independent  livelihood.  This  occupation  brought  him 
in  contact  with  the  most  distinguished  naturalists  of 
his  time. 

The  <Tews  in  Amsterdam  finally  succeeded  in  exiling 
Spinoza,  and  from  this  time  he  lived  either  in  Ley  den  or 
at  the  Hague,  in  such  absolute  retirement  that  often  for 
many  weeks  together  he  never  left  his  house.  One  of  his 
friends  —  and  there  were  many  who  clung  to  him  with 
passionate  devotion  —  wished  to  make  him  a  present  of  a 
considerable  sum  of  money ;  but  Spinoza  refused  it,  call- 
ing his  friend's  attention  to  the  fact  that  lie  had  a  brother 
to  whom  the  money  was  due.  Another  wished  to  give 
him  an  allowance  of  five  hundred  guilders  yearly,  but 


SPINOZA'S  "ETHICS."  203 

Spinoza  would  only  accept  three  hundred,  just  what  was 
absolutely  necessary  to  sustain  life.  His  patrimony  he 
gave  to  his  sister.  A  call  to  Heidelberg,  where  as  pro- 
fessor of  philosophy  he  would  have  been  free  to  teach 
what  he  liked,  he  declined  for  the  sake  of  continuing 
his  work  in  his  independent  way  at  the  Hague.  And 
there  he  died  of  consumption  at  about  forty-five  years 
of  age. 

Spinoza  published  in  his  lifetime  an  exposition  of  the 
philosophy  of  Descartes,  which  is  not  of  so  much  impor- 
tance as  the  great  works  published  after  his  death, — 
"  Ethics,"  and  the  "  Political  Treatise."  Next  to  the 
latter  his  letters  are  most  valuable.  We  see  how  favor- 
able Spinoza's  peculiar  position  was  for  scientific  study. 
He  was  without  family  and  perfectly  alone.  He  had  re- 
nounced his  nation  ;  there  was  no  State  to  which  lie  owed 
allegiance,  or  which  he  must  in  any  way  regard,  for  in 
Holland  at  that  time  one  might  think,  say,  and  print 
what  he  liked.  Spinoza,  moreover,  possessed  that  excel- 
lent gift  of  the  Hebrew  mind  which  enables  one  to  take 
up  things  objectively.  He  did  not  allow  himself  to  be 
led  astray  by  any  considerations  which  were  outside  of 
the  subject  before  him.  A  man  so  prepared  devotes  all 
his  thoughts  and  all  his  labor  to  a  calm,  unselfish  con- 
templation of  the  human  world  which  with  all  its  whirl 
of  passions  and  interests  is  moving  about  him.  And  the 
book  in  which  he  demonstrated  his  results  was  under- 
taken with  the  settled  purpose  that  it  should  not  be 
printed  until  after  the  death  of  the  author.  Under  the 
name  of  "  Ethics "  he  works  out  the  following :  "  A 
theory  of  mutual  intercourse  in  which  each  man  is  con- 
sidered as  part  of  a  whole."  Spinoza  has  included  within 
a  few  simple  formulas  the  whole  monstrous  complication 
of  feelings  and  motives  created  and  engendered  by  human 


LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

intercourse.  Throughout  we  find  nothing  personal  in  the 
book;  nothing  in  the  remotest  degree  that  looks  like  an 
anecdote  ;  not  the  slightest  attempt  to  convert  the  reader 
by  any  other  means  than  mathematical  demonstration,  or 
to  dictate  to  him  "  Do  that,  it  is  good  !  "  or  "  Do  not  do 
that,  it  is  bad !  "  Indeed  it  is  a  book  written  in  a  lan- 
guage which  one  can  hardly  call  a  language.  In  order  to 
be  rigidly  exact,  Spinoza  has  used  the  dead  Latin  of  the 
scholars  of  his  time  as  mechanically  as  possible.  With 
the  pointedness  of  a  business  man,  he  makes  use  of  such 
words  and  phrases  as  guarantee  that  no  mistakes  shall 
arise ;  there  are  no  provincialisms,  no  fascinating  senten- 
ces, no  comparisons,  no  pleasing  reminder  in  the  reading 
of  the  good  Latin  authors,  but  the  barest  statements  fol 
low  one  upon  another  in  the  barest  syntax.  Spinoza 
therefore  appropriately  chose  the  title,  Ethica  ordine 
mathematico  demonstrate/,,  —  "  Theory  of  the  Moral  Rela- 
tions of  Men  presented  in  Mathematical  Order." 

And  this  book  was  not  only  to  remain  unpublished 
until  after  his  death,  but  even  then  it  was  to  appear 
anonymously.  Spinoza  says  :  "  The  name  of  the  author 
upon  the  titlepage  influences  the  readers  :  this  must  not 
be  allowed ;  no  one  is  to  know  that  I  am  the  author  of 
this  book.  It  shall  lie  before  the  eyes  of  men  as  if  it 
had  been  the  product  of  humanity." 

There  is  a  book  by  Desor,  translated  by  Carl  Vogt, 
which  relates  the  efforts  of  a  company  of  learned  men  to 
fathom  the  locomotion  of  the  glacier.  A  number  of 
people  betake  themselves  to  the  spot.  They  arc  sure 
of  only  two  facts  :  first,  that  glaciers  move  ;  and,  second, 
that  how  they  move  they  do  not  know.  They  begin  to 
study  the  matter  as  one  would  a  book  written  in  an  un- 
known tongue.  Slowly  and  laboriously  they  find  the  right 
method  of  observation,  and  at  last  the  secret  is  discovered 


GOETHE'S  DOUBLE  NATURE.      205 

how  the  huge  mass  of  ice  moves  forward.  In  the  same 
way  Spinoza  took  the  moral  progress  of  mankind  for  the 
subject  of  his  investigations,  and  without  resorting  to 
historical  evidence  trusted  simply  to  what  he  had  before 
his  eyes  and  ears.  He  brings  an  endless  number  of 
symptoms  into  distinct  groups  ;  gives  to  each  group  its 
name ;  then  proceeds  to  find  the  relations  between  them, 
and  thus  finally  gains  the  clew  to  how  the  united  stream 
of  humanity  is  flowing,  and  whither  it  flows.  He  is  only 
an  explorer,  nothing  else.  He  has  no  favorite  personal 
ideas,  no  national  prejudices,  no  aims  of  any  kind  what- 
ever, but  the  single  intention  to  state  the  matter  as  it  is ; 
and  in  conclusion  the  one  result  arrived  at  is  that  the 
"  Good "  is  something  real  and  positive,  and  that  the 
"  Evil "  is  nothing  real,  but  only  negation  of  the  "  Good." 
This  book,  which  from  the  moment  of  its  publication 
until  now  has  had  the  greatest  effect,  satisfied  a  want  in 
Goethe's  nature  by  its  manner  of  interpreting  all  things, 
—  a  want  which  nowhere  else  had  found  relief. 

Goethe's  Faust  speaks  of  the  baideu  seelen  which 
dwelt  within  his  breast.  This  twofold  spiritual  existence 
Goethe  had  been  able  best  to  observe  in  himself.  There 
was  in  his  nature  a  mixture  of  blindness  with  the  keen- 
est perspicacity,  which  apart  from  each  other  worked  out 
their  various  results  side  by  side  within  him.  He  says 
of  himself  that  he  first  wrote,  rushing  unconsciously  on, 
and  only  knew  what  he  had  done  when  he  saw  it  on 
paper.  Added  to  this  was  the  necessity  of  expressing 
himself  in  parables.  He  was  once  phrenologically  exam- 
ined by  Dr.  Gall,  who  introduced  phrenology  and  by  his 
personal  experiments  spread  it  far  and  wide  in  Germany ; 
and  Gall  declared  that  Goethe's  most  conspicuous  trait 
was  to  express  himself  in  tropes.  He  could  not  convert  his 
thoughts  into  exact  words,  and  availed  himself  of  poetic 


206  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

imagery  to  suggest  what  he  wished  to  say.  To  state  it 
emphatically,  Goethe  gave  up  trying  to  understand  him- 
self. In  his  old  age,  speaking  of  himself  to  Chancellor 
Miiller,  he  said  :  "  What  one  actually  is  he  must  find  out 
from  others."  Goethe  shows  himself  on  one  side  a  poet; 
a  somnambulist  who  is  not  conscious  while  he  writes 
what  flows  from  his  pen  ;  a  dreamer  who  does  not  under- 
stand himself,  and  is  in  his  own  eyes  a  half-fictitious 
creature,  —  is  vacillating,  confused,  and  passionate;  will 
enjoy  the  goods  of  this  world,  will  surrender  himself  to 
the  vague  instincts  of  his  nature,  and  remove  from  his 
path  all  obstacles  which  threaten  to  hinder  it.  But  on 
the  other  side,  in  opposition  to  this,  stands  his  unmer- 
ciful objectivity  and  clearness  of  apprehension.  A  demon 
whispers  to  him  instantly  where  the  weak  side  is  in 
men  and  things.  He  practises  the  subtlest  criticism, 
anatomizes  men,  —  others  as  well  as  himself,  —  and  will 
not  allow  the  least  embellishment  of  his  results.  So  we 
seo  him  as  naturalist,  statesman,  historian.  He  is  decided, 
keen,  cold.  Now  he  will  not  be  tempted  by  the  pleasures 
of  this  world,  but  insists  that  renunciation  is  commanded. 
This  is  his  great  word.  With  an  unrelenting  severity, 
toward  himself  first  of  all,  he  seeks  to  fulfil  his  duty. 

The  result  of  all  this  is  that  we  see  Goethe  always 
either  one  or  the  other ;  never  both  together,  never  the 
two  orbits  running  into  one  another.  Either  he  writes 
poetry,  or  he  views  almost  indifferently  what  he  has 
written,  not  quite  knowing  what  to  do  with  it ;  either 
like  a  deluded  child  he  gives  himself  wholly  and  confid- 
ingly to  men,  or  he  advances  to  meet  them  sternly  like  a 
man  hardened  by  experience.  These  alternations  in  him 
never  ended.  He  always  meets  men  with  fresh  curiosity, 
and  loves  them  while  new,  but  repulses  them  unmercifully 
when  the  hour  for  criticism  arrives ;  for  the  conscious- 


PECULIARITY    OF    HIS    RELIGIOUS    BELIEF.      207 

ness  of  the  folly  outgrown  irritates  him,  and  in  general 
when  he  begins  to  criticise  nothing  satisfies  him. 

Goethe's  double  nature  found  in  Spinoza's  philosophy 
its  only  adequate  interpretation.  In  general,  those  who 
surrender  themselves  to  a  philosopher  demand  of  him 
not  only  what  belongs  to  the  cold  intellect,  but  that  he 
should  include  in  his  system  the  things  which,  beyond  the 
reach  of  dry  explanation,  reveal  themselves  only  to  the 
vision  of  the  prophetic  soul ;  for  what  does  not  here 
admit  of  proof  is  then  accepted  on  the  personal  respon- 
sibility of  the  philosopher.  Precisely  this  last  neither 
Goethe  nor  Spinoza  would  permit.  The  things  which  lie 
beyond  comprehension  and  proof  Goethe  did  not  desire  to 
have  extended  to  him  by  strange  hands.  The  distinction 
which  Spinoza  held  fast,  that  when  he  spoke  of  God  he 
meant  God  only  in  so  far  as  human  reason  was  able  to 
comprehend  him,  and  surrendered  blindly  to  theology 
everything  beyond  that,  corresponded  to  Goethe's  deepest 
convictions.  The  God  of  whom  he  was  conscious  was  not 
the  God  whom  he  sought  to  interpret.  Like  Spinoza,  he 
considered  philosophy  and  theology  wholly  distinct  ele- 
ments, as  unlike  one  another  as  land  and  water.  On  the 
one  man  stands  or  moves  with  firm  tread,  while  over  the 
other  he  is  driven  at  the  mercy  of  the  winds  and  waves. 
Lessing  also  felt  this,  and  clung  to  Spinoza's  theory  with 
his  inmost  soul.  Jacobi,  on  the  other  hand,  who  in  reality 
began  in  philosophy  where  Goethe  stopped,  groped  about 
among  the  mysteries  of  supernaturalism,  and  sought  to 
make  Spinoza's  solemn  awe  before  things  which  do  not 
come  within  the  region  of  the  understanding  a  reason 
for  suspecting  him  of  atheism.  This  was  the  point  where 
Goethe  and  Jacobi  separated.  Goethe's  faith  in  God  and 
immortality  had  nothing  at  all  to  do  with  his  philosophy. 
This  faith  had  grown  up  in  him  and  belonged  to  him ;  he 


208  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

wanted  no  proof  of  it,  and  in  general  allowed  no  discussion 
of  the  subject.  Only  in  rare  moments  would  he  speak  of 
it,  when  he  felt  assured  that  he  was  fully  understood  by 
his  friends.  Jacobi  loved  openly  to  discuss  these  things  ; 
and  this  fundamental  difference  in  their  natures  gave  occa- 
sion for  argument  between  them,  even  to  their  last  days. 
Jacobi  fostered  the  curious  mistake  that  if  only  the  right 
lever  could  be  applied,  Goethe  would  be  brought  over  to  his 
dogmatical  philosophy,  while  Goethe  always  repudiated 
him  with  the  like  firmness.  Goethe  has  had  many  oppo- 
nents who  could  not  understand  him  in  this  respect,  and 
called  him  the  "  great  Heathen."  He  has  occasionally 
called  himself  a  heathen,  but  never  an  atheist  or  an 
unbeliever. 

After  Jacobi,  Goethe  never  found  an  intimate  friend  to 
whom  he  so  wholly  surrendered  himself;  and  after  Spinoza 
he  made  fresh  acquaintance  only  with  Raphael,  as  if  even 
in  the  kingdom  of  the  dead  there  was  no  other  who  might 
command  his  absolute  devotion  :  under  the  name  of  Ra- 
phael, however,  I  understand  not  Raphael  alone,  but  his 
epoch,  and  Rome  with  all  her  treasures.  Yet  before  this 
last  great  acquaintance  was  to  be  vouchsafed  him,  Goethe 
needed  a  series  of  years  marked  by  the  severest  toil. 

One  thing  more  concerning  Spinoza. 

Goethe's  description  in  "  Dichtung  tmd  Wahrheit "  of 
the  beginning  of  his  acquaintance  with  Spinoza's  works 
is  unique  of  its  kind.  We  see  that  Spinoza  is  revealed  to 
him  only  by  degrees.  A  dim  feeling  of  kinship  attracts 
him  ever  anew  to  Spinoza's  book,  which  he  reads  at  first 
hardly  knowing  that  he  is  learning  anything  from  it. 
In  this  account  is  an  experience  valuable  to  all  men. 
How  many  who  have  found  themselves,  as  it  seemed 
by  accident,  attracted  to  some  great  soul  have  followed 
in  its  orbit  with  just  such  an  indistinct  consciousness  of 


AFFINITY  BETWEEN  AUTHOR  AND  READER.  209 

dependence,  and  only  as  they  came  nearer  and  nearer 
to  him  realized  what  they  sought  in  him !  How  many 
have  become  acquainted  with  Goethe  himself  in  this 
way,  having  taken  his  works  into  their  hands  at  first 
only  because  a  feeling  of  affinity  inclined  them  to  the 
perusal ! 


14 


210  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 


LECTURE  XL 

LILLI    SCHOENEMANN. 

A  S  it  is  inconsistent  with  our  plan  to  speak  of  any- 
-^~~*-  thing  which  did  not  immediately  influence  Goethe's 
development,  it  seems  like  a  digression  if  I  mention,  ho- 
noris causa,  specially  the  visit  which  he  received  in  the 
autumn  of  1774.  Klopstock  passed  through  Frankfort. 
He  was  going  at  the  invitation  of  the  Margrave  of  Baden 
to  pass  at  least  a  year  at  his  court,  where  he  refused  per- 
manently to  reside.  There  were  in  those  times  of  "  phil- 
anthropic enlightenment "  a  number  of  small  princes  in 
Germany  to  whom  intercourse  with  such  men  seemed  a 
vital  necessity. 

It  is  curious  that  Klopstock,  whom  Goethe  from  his 
childhood  regarded  with  extraordinary  veneration,  seems 
to  have  had  no  effect  upon  him  either  as  a  writer  or  a 
poet.  We  can  nowhere  trace  Klopstock's  influence. 
Even  the  Odes  in  which,  after  the  Strasburg  time,  he  liked 
to  pour  forth  his  feelings,  suggest  Pindar  rather  than 
Klopstock.  The  one  thing  in  the  tragedy  of  "Mahomet," 
which  can  be  called  truly  Klopstockian,  is  so  much  of  an 
exception  that  it  only  confirms  what  has  been  said.  If 
we  did  not  know  its  origin,  we  should  scarcely  ascribe  it 
to  Goethe.  The  impressions  of  his  childhood  seem  to 
have  implanted  in  him  a  kind  of  historical  reverence, 
which  made  his  manner  towards  Klopstock  very  different 


KLOPSTOCK   AS   A   POET   AND   MAN.  211 

from  what  might  be  almost  called  the  saucy  unconcern 
with  which  he  often  met  such  venerable  dignitaries.  In 
his  old  age  Goethe  said  once,  "  We  silly  boys  of  1772," 
alluding  to  the  reckless  indifference  with  which  he  and 
his  companions  opposed  the  prejudices  of  their  time  in 
every  direction.  They  passed  over  rough-shod  what  did 
not  suit  them,  and  proclaimed  their  opinions  openly  ;  but 
Klopstock  was  an  exception  with  Goethe. 

When  Lotte  and  Werther,  at  that  eventful  ball,  stood 
together  at  the  window  and  looked  out  into  the  night, 
only  one  word  was  exchanged  between  them,  —  Klopstock. 
All  that  could  be  expressed  of  the  sublime  was  exhausted 
in  that  one  word. 

Klopstock  was  Prime  Archangel  in  the  Hierarchy  of 
German  poetry.  His  "  Messiah  "  placed  him,  in  the  eyes 
of  his  contemporaries,  as  much  above  Homer  as  Voltaire 
with  his  "Henriade  "  was  placed  by  himself  and  his  nation. 
The  last  five  cantos  of  the  "  Messiah,"  which  Goethe  and 
his  sister  read  by  stealth  when  children  and  became  so 
wildly  enthusiastic  over,  had  just  been  published  ;  and 
the  "  Odes "  appeared  while  Goethe  was  studying  in 
Strasburg.  Klopstock  was  only  fifty-one  years  of  age, 
but  had  already  given  to  his  fame  its  last  and  highest 
consecration.  His  German  was  the  noblest,  the  freest, 
the  richest ;  and  great  thoughts  were  allowed  expression 
among  us  only  in  the  language  which  he  had  created. 

Klopstock  was  an  imposing  presence ;  not  only  was 
he  the  friend  and  confidant  of  princes,  but  in  his  own 
appearance  there  was  something  regal.  Thus  we  see 
Cardinal  Bembo  in  the  sixteenth  century,  as  a  learned 
theologian,  raising  himself  to  be  a  prince  among  princes. 
Goethe,  when  he  talked  with  Eckermann  about  Klop- 
stock, said  he  had  looked  up  to  him  as  to  a  revered  uncle. 
Later,  in  the  same  vein,  he  describes  him  to  Chancellor 


212  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

Miiller  as  somewhat  stiff  and  stately,  with  an  assump- 
tion of  superiority.  The  aspiring  youthful  generation 
looked  up  to  Klopstock,  and  offered  him  that  modest  rev- 
erence which  later  surrounded  him  as  an  atmosphere. 
Klopstock  also  had  begun  his  career  as  a  theologian,  and 
to  minister  and  care  for  the  souls  of  men  had  become  a 
second  nature.  If  among  the  younger  poets  anything 
was  not  as  it  should  be,  Klopstock,  asked  or  unasked, 
wrote  a  letter  of  remonstrance,  which  they  complied  with. 
With  Goethe,  however,  this  became  the  cause  of  a  very 
sudden  and  decided  rupture. 

Klopstock  had  not  struggled  to  gain  his  high  position. 
The  laurel  had  peacefully  and  luxuriantly  grown  about 
his  house,  almost  without  any  effort  on  his  part.  He 
was  always  in  comfortable  circumstances.  Lessing,  a 
lonely  being  in  Wolfenbiittel,  and  Herder,  who  still  more 
neglected  had  run  aground  in  Buckeburg,  from  whence 
even  with  humiliating  conditions  it  was  almost  impos- 
sible for  him  to  gain  a  professorship  at  Gottingen,  were 
to  Klopstock  like  small  energetic  islands  in  comparison 
with  a  vast  continental  empire.  They  stood  alone,  and 
maintained  their  policy  single-handed.  Klopstock,  on  the 
other  hand,  worked  as  it  were  aided  by  the  machinery  of 
a  well-organized  government,  and  as  a  symbolic  repre- 
sentative of  the  kingdom  over  which  he  ruled  ;  wrote  his 
"  Republic  of  Learned  Men,"  —  "  Gelehrtenrepublik,"  — 
a  mixture  of  romantic  narration  and  dry  reasoning,  like 
Rousseau's  "  Emile,"  and  in  imitation  of  it. 

Rousseau  had  not  dared  to  make  France  the  scene  of 
his  Ideal  Kingdom,  in  which  at  the  end  of  his  "  Emile  " 
every  one  found  peace  and  comfort,  but  chose  the  Greek- 
Asiatic  Islands,  which  at  that  time  were  always  at  hand 
ready  for  such  use.  Klopstock,  on  the  contrary,  organ- 
ized his  republic,  composed  of  the  literary  and  educated, 


KLOPSTOCK'S  "REPUBLIC."  213 

in  Germany  itself.  This  book  contains  an  account  of 
events  in  this  already  constituted  republic.  Presiding 
over  this  republic  was  the  Areopagus,  an  assembly  of 
the  most  eminent  philosophers ;  and  from  them  the  ranks 
graduated  downward  to  the  masses^  who  formed  the 
Corona,  and  were  only  allowed  now  and  then  to  discuss  a 
subject  and  to  give  their  opinion.  All  Germany  subscribed 
for  this  book.  When  it  was  published,  Goethe  wrote : 
"  It  is  the  greatest  work  of  the  century,  and  contains  the 
only  true  poetry ; "  while  Herder  said :  "  This  learned 
republic  is  composed  merely  of  little  boys,  with  Klop- 
stock  in  their  midst." 

The  style  of  the  "  Gelehrtenrepublik  "  and  of  his  let- 
ters is  monotonous  and  wearisome,  and  the  metaphors  in 
his  "  Odes  "  seem  anything  but  natural ;  while  the  some- 
what heavy  swing  of  his  graceful  cadences  is  no  longer 
imposing,  and  has  lost  all  the  charm  of  novelty.  Still  we 
cannot  be  sure  that  the  future  will  not,  in  some  degree, 
reverse  the  present  judgment  of  them.  Klopstock's  pa- 
thos sprang  from  true  feeling,  and  his  language  possesses 
a  vitality  of  its  own,  while  his  position  in  our  literary 
development  is  unassailable.  Like  Ennius  in  Roman  lit- 
erature, he  will  perhaps  remain  chiefly  distinguished  for 
having  made  the  first  successful  attempt  to  bring  the 
emphasis  of  the  words  and  sentences  into  consonance 
with  their  meaning. 

It  is  certain  that  Goethe  highly  revered  Klopstock,  but 
what  personal  relations  they  could  have  had  at  that  time 
I  really  do  not  know.  In  those  days  Goethe  carried  his 
"  Stella  "  about  with  him,  a  subject  which  would  have 
been  revolting  to  Klopstock.  Even  Frederick  the  Great, 
although  alike  indifferent  to  conventional  morals  and  the 
young  poets  of  Germany,  felt  himself  moved  to  make 
known  his  displeasure  at  this  work.  Klopstock  would 


214  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

not  have  judged  it  otherwise,  and  Goethe  himself,  after 
the  enthusiasm  had  flown  with  which  for  a  few  years  he 
clung  to  the  poem,  yielded  to  the  universal  judgment 
and  gave  to  the  plot  another  ending. 

Owing  to  the  peculiarities  of  this  work,  a  few  words 
are  here  required  concerning  it. 

In  order  to  comprehend  how  Goethe  was  led  to  think 
of  such  a  radical  change  at  the  close  of  the  story,  —  that 
the  hero,  instead  of  marrying  both  the  women  who  have 
claims  upon  his  heart,  shoots  himself,  —  we  must  bear  in 
mind  that  the  new  construction  is  suggested  much  more 
naturally  than  would  at  first  appear.  Stella  closed  with 
a  double  marriage  ;  and  nothing  was  more  natural  than 
that  Goethe  should  be  reproached  with  defending  bigamy. 
But  this  end  was  by  no  means  the  conclusion  required  by 
the  development  of  the  plot.  Wherever  the  question  is 
whether  a  man  shall  be  allowed  to  marry  more  than  one 
woman,  as  among  the  Mormons,  it  is  understood  to  rest 
on  the  pleasure  of  the  man,  who  decides  whether  he 
wants  more  than  one  wife.  But  in  Goethe's  "  Stella " 
the  question  concerns  two  women,  both  of  whom  believe 
they  have  a  right  to  the  man  to  whom,  at  different  times, 
each  has  wholly  belonged.  Not  only  to  the  surprise  of 
the  spectators  but  of  the  hero  himself,  who  had  never 
dreamed  of  the  like,  he  is  reminded  in  the  most  critical 
moment  of  the  Count  of  Gleichen  and  his  two  wives ; 
whereupon  he  instantly  follows  his  example.  The  piece 
closes  with  rapture  at  having  found  this  way  out  of  the 
dilemma,  and  no  time  is  afforded  the  spectators  to  look 
farther  into  the  future.  What  Goethe  valued  in  this 
work  was  the  contrast  in  the  character  of  the  two 
women,  who,  with  all  their  vehemence  and  passion,  ap- 
pear before  us  to-day  in  imperishable  colors.  Ulrich's, 
and  after  him  Scherer's,  investigations  have  shown  us 


LILLI    SCHOEKEHAKN".  215 

what  circumstances  led  Goethe  to  deal  with  this  curious 
problem. 

The  renown  which  Goethe  won  by  the  publication  of 
"  Werther,"  which  at  this  time  had  just  appeared,  —  a 
renown  wrhich  lasted  fresh  many  years,  —  indicated  to 
him  the  path  he  should  follow.  He  was  proud  and  in  the 
wildest  spirits.  Such  sweet  wine  as  the  autumn  of  1774 
mellowed  for  him  Fate  never  again  offered  to  his  lips! 
And,  as  if  to  crown  this  joy,  the  one  treasure  in  life  which 
had  been  denied  him  was  to  be  granted  him,  —  love  for  a 
beautiful  young  girl,  who  returns  his  love,  and  whom  he  is 
willing  to  make  his  wife :  and  now  all  the  elements  seem 
to  exist  which  for  a  well-to-do  citizen  constitute  the  hap- 
piness of  a  lifetime.  We  have  seen  how  each  new  love- 
affair  has  shown  Goethe  in  a  wider  horizon.  When  he 
first  loved  Gretchen,  or  in  Leipsic  the  good  and  pretty 
maidens  captivated  him,  a  bar-room  formed  the  back- 
ground of  his  stage.  In  Strasburg  the  scene  is  somewhat 
enlarged :  here  we  have  a  village  with  rural  perspective. 
Wetzlar  offers  the  Deutsches  Haus,  with  all  the  life  of 
the  little  town  and  its  surrounding  landscape,  as  the 
scene  of  action.  But  with  Lilli  the  piece  is,  as  we  might 
say,  acted  on  a  great  opera-stage  brilliantly  lighted.  She 
belonged  to  one  of  the  distinguished  Frankfort  families. 
Receptions,  masquerades,  excursions  by  sea  and  land  oc- 
cur, and  many  important  personages  figure  in  the  play. 
Instead  of  a  one-act  performance  with  few  dramatis  per- 
sonce,  we  have  here  a  comedy  in  five  acts,  which,  after  vio- 
lent struggles  for  and  against,  reaches  its  long-deferred 
conclusion. 

Goethe  was  certainly  at  that  time  one  of  the  most  de- 
sirable matches  in  Frankfort.  He  was  not  only  young 
and  handsome,  but  famous.  He  had  the  overflowing 
fountain  of  youthful  power  which  no  one  can  resist ;  he 


216  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

was  just  the  being  for  a  young  girl  of  sixteen  to  fall  in 
love  with !  What  he  was  at  this  time  gives  the  key  to 
one  of  his  poetical  creations,  which  else  would  be  some- 
what inexplicable  to  us,  and  which  now  in  its  turn  throws 
a  light  on  Goethe  himself. 

Rugantino  or,  as  he  is  called  in  the  first  edition,  Cru- 
gantino,  in  the  drama  written  at  this  time  of  "  Claudine 
von  Villa  Bella,"  is  a  vagabond  ;  that  is  to  say,  he  is  the 
son  of  respectable  parents,  but  (in  the  style  of  the  Spanish 
novels)  spends  his  time  on  the  highways  and  among  the 
hills  with  gay  companions  who  sustain  him  in  the  wildest 
adventures,  until  love  entices  him  back  to  a  quiet,  respect- 
able existence, — a  milder  kind  of  Don  Juan :  certainly  at 
that  time  Mozart's  opera  had  not  been  put  on  the  stage. 
Cervantes,  however,  had  long  been  among  Goethe's  fa- 
vorite authors ;  and,  later,  he  took  the  same  theme  for 
his  "  Wilhelm  Meister." 

Goethe,  the  ideal  vagabond,  now  meets  his  Claudine ;  and 
the  experiment  almost  succeeds,  as  it  did  with  Crugantino. 

Goethe  relates  charmingly  how  the  summer  of  1774 
passed  in  Frankfort ;  his  journey  with  Lavater  inter- 
rupted only  for  a  while  the  gay  social  life  which  had 
drawn  together  a  great  number  of  young  people.  The 
special  persons  whom  Goethe  mentions,  or  who  are  spoken 
of  by  others  as  belonging  to  this  circle,  have  been  fol- 
lowed up  by  the  Goethe  investigators,  and  many  details 
about  them  have  been  brought  to  light.  Diintzer  and 
Loeper  give  us  knowledge  of  them.  By  one  of  this  circle 
Goethe  was  incited  to  write  "  Clavigo." 

In  the  course  of  this  summer  Goethe  became  better 
acquainted  with  Lilli.  He  had  met  her  earlier  as  a 
good,  open-hearted,  fresh  young  girl  who  gave  him  her 
confidence.  When,  at  the  beginning  of  1775,  in  the 
midst  of  the  brilliant  society  of  Frankfort,  he  saw  Lilli 


HE   FALLS    IN   LOVE   WITH   LILLI.  217 

again,  she  had  all  the  presence  of  a  lady.  Besides  Goe- 
the's own  account  in  "  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit "  of  his 
experience  with  Lilli,  we  have  a  series  of  a  very  peculiar 
kind  of  letters  written  at  that  time  to  the  Countess  Au- 
gusta Stolberg,  who  was  personally  unknown  to  him,  but 
whom  nevertheless  he  addresses  as  "du"  and  "  Gust- 
chen."  His  imitation  of  Lavater's  style  is  nowhere  so 
apparent,  and  they  are  written  in  such  a  curious  style  as 
to  distinguish  them  from  all  his  other  letters.  In  Janu- 
ary he  had  first  seen  Lilli  again.  In  February  he  writes 
to  the  Countess,  — 

"  If  you  can  picture  to  yourself,  my  dear,  a  Goethe  who 
in  gold-laced  coat  (and  forsooth  from  head  to  foot  in  the 
same  ornamental  attire),  under  a  blaze  of  chandeliers  and 
candelabra,  surrounded  by  all  kinds  of  people,  is  chained  to 
the  card-table  by  a  pair  of  beautiful  eyes ;  who  in  a  round  of 
gayeties  is  driven  from  receptions  to  concerts,  and  from  there 
to  balls,  and  with  all  the  interest  of  the  frivolous  courts  a 
pretty  little  blonde,  —  you  have  before  you  the,  at  present, 
Carnival  Goethe,  who  lately  blundered  out  to  you  some 
stupid  sentimentalisms,"  etc. 

We  see  what  a  dangerous  little  blonde  she  was, — no 
flower  growing  in  the  woods  like  Frederika,  nor  blossom- 
ing in  the  window  of  a  retired  country  house  like  Lotte, 
but  one  in  a  magnificent  garden,  amid  artificial  fountains, 
unfolding  itself  to  the  admiring  gaze  of  all ;  and,  though 
none  may  pluck  it,  we  must  marvel  at  its  beauty  and 
rejoice  in  its  fragrance. 

Mark  now  how  Goethe  repeats  in  verse  these  thoughts 
in  the  letter  :  — 

"  Wherefore  so  resistlessly  dost  draw  me 

Into  scenes  so  bright  ? 
Had  I  not  enough  to  soothe  and  charm  me 
In  the  lonely  night  ? 


218  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

"  Homely  in  my  little  room  secluded, 

While  the  moon's  bright  beams 
In  a  shimmering  light  fell  softly  on  me, 
As  I  lay  in  dreams  : 

"  Dreaming  through  the  golden  hours  of  rapture 

Soothed  my  heart  to  rest, 
As  I  felt  thy  image  sweetly  living 
Deep  within  ruy  breast. 

"  Can  it  be  I  sit  at  yonder  table, 

Gay  with  cards  and  lights, 
Forced  to  meet  intolerable  people. 
Because  'tis  she  invites  ? 

"  Alas  !  the  gentle  bloom  of  spring  no  longer 

Cheereth  my  poor  heart: 
There  is  only  spring  and  love  and  Nature, 
Angel,  where  thou  art!  " 

"  To  this,  then,"  Goethe  says  to  the  beloved  one,  "  you 
have  brought  me,  that  I  find  the  hated  amusements  of 
society  more  alluring  than  Nature  herself." 

But  he  has  no  right  to  complain.  He  might  have 
known  it  all  beforehand.  Lilli  had  openly  and  candidly 
talked  about  herself.  She  had  grown  up  in  the  enjoy- 
ment of  every  social  advantage,  had  been  indulged  in 
pleasures  of  all  kinds,  and  made  no  secret  of  the  fact 
that  she  neither  could  nor  would  do  without  them  in  the 
future.  We  call  her  without  the  slightest  hesitation  a 
little  coquette.  But  she  had  been  perfectly  open  about 
it :  it  delighted  her  to  have  adorers.  Goethe  describes 
this  in  the  most  delicate  way :  "  She  made  no  secret  of 
her  little  weaknesses,  and  could  not  deny  that  she  had  a 
certain  gift  to  attract  people  to  her,  together  with  an  in- 
clination to  drop  them  again  as  lightly." 

But  it  was  one  thing  to  hear  a  young  girl  prattle  of 


LOVE-VOWS  PLIGHTED  AND  UNPLIGHTED.      219 

such  things  in  an  afternoon  ramble  through  the  woods 
and  meadows,  and  another  to  experience  the  truth  of 
them  in  practice  on  oneself.  Lilli  met  Goethe  again  as  a 
fashionable  lady,  who  was  admired  and  received  the  ad- 
miration gracefully,  and  who  treated  everybody,  especially 
Goethe,  after  a  way  of  her  own. 

Without  doubt  she  had  informed  herself  in  the  mean 
time  with  regard  to  many  things  which  Goethe  at  his 
confessionals  certainly  had  not  confided  to  her  with  equal 
plainness,  and  had  found  out  what  a  dangerous  customer 
he  was.  Of  all  these  things  she  made  a  note.  A  young 
girl  of  sixteen  has  not  much  conscience  in  such  matters. 
Lilli  makes  her  adorer  jealous,  keeps  him  on  tenter-hooks, 
then  smooths  him  down  again  only  to  exasperate  him 
afresh ;  in  short  she  takes  the  right  way  to  fasten  him 
irrevocably  to  her,  —  and  this  continues  three  months, 
until  an  engagement  is  the  result. 

Lilli  had  conquered.  But  scarcely  was  the  game  won 
when  the  tables  were  turned.  We  remember  how  it  was 
with  Frederika.  The  moment  Goethe  divined  that  he 
had  conquered  a  heart,  an  involuntary  perception  sprang 
up  in  him  that  the  summit  was  reached,  and  that  hence- 
forth the  path  lay  downward.  The  same  thing  happened 
here,  as  Goethe  himself  describes,  —  his  growing  passion, 
his  happiness,  and  then  the  awakening  from  the  intoxica- 
tion. As  soon  as  he  was  officially  announced  a  bride- 
groom, his  thoughts  centred  about  the  one  idea  of  setting 
himself  free  again.  He  sees  how  seriously  his  mother  is 
preparing  to  receive  Lilli  as  a  daughter :  a  fright  takes 
possession  of  him.  In  April  the  engagement  takes  place, 
and  in  May  he  announces  to  Herder  that  it  is  all  over. 
But  he  deceives  himself  this  time,  for  the  affair  could  not 
be  dismissed  so  easily.  It  is  now  Lilli's  turn  to  suffer, 
and  to  try  to  win  her  lover  back.  But  I  intend  to  touch 


220  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

only  the  main  features,  and  dare  not  attempt  to  give  even 
a  sketch  of  this  exquisite  love-story,  which  with  all  its 
charming  details,  is  told  in  "  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit." 
Goethe's  description  is  not  to  be  excelled,  and  we  would 
not  lose  one  word  of  it. 

It  is  something  pitiful  to  see  how  the  poor  girl  con- 
quered at  last  forgets  her  little  artifices,  and  only  tries  to 
please  him  whom  she  loves.  But  with  all  her  cleverness 
she  does  not  understand  the  power  against  which  she  is 
contending.  Goethe's  demoniac  impulse  to  free  himself 
from  all  bonds,  even  the  dearest,  led  him  to  rend  and 
break  these  which  had  been  so  tenderly  woven  and  so 
firmly  joined. 

From  Goethe's  letters  to  the  Countess  Stolberg  we  see 
how  fully  the  matter  absorbed  him.  To  this  friend  whom 
he  had  never  seen  he  could  pour  out  his  heart  as  freely 
as  if  he  were  talking  to  himself.  We  feel  that  by  writ- 
ing to  some  one  he  hopes  to  become  relieved  of  what  op- 
presses him.  It  is  curious  to  observe  how  he  refers 
again  and  again  to  the  changes  in  the  weather  and  the 
seasons,  as  if  they  were  an  indispensable  accompaniment. 
Something  of  this  kind  we  have  remarked  before. 
"  Werther  "  is  full  of  it ;  but  here  he  emphasizes  all  these 
externals  as  if  they  were  quite  an  essential  part  of  the 
story.  Goethe's  account  of  this  engagement,  and  his 
moods  before  and  after  make  us  feel  as  if  we  were  watch- 
ing one  of  the  organic  processes  of  Nature,  where  the 
changes  are  as  beautiful  as  they  are  necessary ;  and 
when  the  separation  at  last  takes  place,  it  seems  as  inev- 
itable as  the  coming  of  autumn  and  winter,  which  must 
shake  from  the  trees  the  leaves  which  the  spring  and 
summer  had  brought  forth  and  nurtured. 

At  first  we  pity  Goethe,  then  in  a  greater  degree  Lilli, 
and  at  last  we  pity  both  equally.  "We  see  what  a  strong 


A   JOURNEY   TO    SWITZERLAND.  221 

feeling  draws  them  to  one  another  and  holds  them  to- 
gether. Nevertheless  they  both  feel  that  they  must  sepa- 
rate, but  cannot  find  the  right  words.  In  serene  moments, 
when  everything  that  is  beautiful  and  lovable  in  them  is 
manifest,  they  feel  with  rapture  what  they  possess  in  each 
other ;  and  at  such  times  no  thought  of  separation  has 
any  power  over  them. 

In  May  Goethe  makes  the  first  attempt  to  release  him- 
self. He  undertakes  a  journey  into  Switzerland,  with 
Italy  in  the  background.  The  two  young  Counts  of  Stol- 
berg,  brothers  of  Augusta,  model  pupils  of  Klopstock, 
had  appeared  in  Frankfort  and  been  hospitably  enter- 
tained by  Goethe.  Later  he  became  estranged  from 
them,  and  speaks  of  them  in  a  tone  of  irony  which  is  not 
usual  with  him.  He  describes  their  enthusiastic  natures, 
their  thirst  for  freedom,  and  how  they  drank  to  the  death 
of  the  tyrant  with  clinking  of  glasses  of  course,  without 
having  any  particular  tyrant  in  mind ;  how  the  old  Rath 
Goethe  looks  on  uneasily,  and  the  mother,  even  more  dis- 
turbed, cannot  comprehend  how  they  can  drink  so  merrily 
to  the  death  of  any  man.  The  scene  which  follows  has 
been  often  related :  how  the  Frau  Rath  goes  into  the  cellar 
where  the  big  wine  casks  were  peacefully  resting  side  by 
side,  draws  from  the  most  excellent  vintage  and  returns 
to  the  party,  and  as  she  fills  their  glasses  says  :  "  This  is 
the  best  tyrant's  blood  to  shed  and  make  an  end  of."  To 
this  visit  she  was  indebted  for  the  name  of  "  Frau  Aja," 
by  which  she  was  henceforth  known  in  the  convivial 
meetings  of  literary  men  throughout  Germany,  and  of 
which  she  herself  was  not  a  little  proud. 

With  these  two  Stolbergs  Goethe  set  out  on  his  jour- 
ney ;  but  before  they  reached  Carlsruhe  the  younger  one 
had  given  proof  of  his  eccentric  nature.  He  had  been  in 
love  with  an  English  lady,  and  the  recollection  of  her 


222  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

caused  periodical  fits  of  madness.  The  Count  of  Haug- 
witz,  who  was  also  of  the  party,  attempted  to  quiet  the 
young  man  at  these  times ;  while  Goethe  was  of  the  opin- 
ion that  it  was  better  to  let  him  exhaust  his  fury.  In 
Carlsruhe,  we  are  told  in  "  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit," 
they  metKlopstock,  who  exercised  his  usual  moral  author- 
ity over  his  adoring  pupils  in  a  most  becoming  manner ; 
while  Dr.  Hennes,  to  whom  we  are  indebted  for  the  last 
published  accounts  of  the  Stolbergs,  proves  that  at  that 
time  Klopstock  had  long  been  in  Hamburg.  Here  we 
will  leave  the  two  counts,  who  are  of  no  further  imp*or- 
tance  in  the  study  of  Goethe's  life.  They  have  become 
famous  enough  in  their  way ;  but  as  poets,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  the  place  of  honor  they  occupy  in  literary  history, 
they  are  almost  forgotten.  In  my  opinion  they  possessed 
a  language  much  purer,  richer,  and  more  beautiful  than 
others  around  them  whose  works  are  not  so  entirely  for- 
gotten. The  translation  of  "  ^Eschylus  "  by  Stolberg  is 
the  best  that  we  have ;  and  Voss  would  never  have  been 
able  to  construct  such  noble  verses,  breathing  as  they  do 
the  very  spirit  of  the  Greek  tragedians. 

Goethe's  journey  was  no  flight  over  the  map  as  to-day. 
He  advanced  by  comfortable  stages  from  city  to  city, 
visited  his  married  sister,  and  called  on  many  friends.  He 
explained  himself  fully  to  his  sister  Cornelia,  who  advised 
him  to  break  his  engagement.  One  aim  of  this  journey 
was  to  have  a  conference  with  Lavater,  the  first  volume  of 
whose  book  he  had  some  time  since  begun  to  publish,  and 
of  which  his  supplementary  work  as  editor  was  the  best 
part.  Goethe  at  this  time  had  perfect  faith  in  these 
things.  Augusta  Stolberg  sends  him  her  silhouette,  and 
he  reads  her  soul  in  it,  as  he  in  his  enthusiastic  interpreta- 
tion tells  her.  In  Zurich  Goethe  staid  in  the  "  Schwert," 
which  house  is  still  standing.  He  who  is  familiar  with 


A   JOURNEY   INTERRUPTED.  223 

the  description  of  this  journey  cannot  sail  over  the  lake 
or  look  upon  the  mountains  without  being  reminded  of 
Goethe,  who,  thinking  of  Lilli,  composed  these  verses : 

"  Eyes,  my  eyes,  what  weighs  you  down? 
Golden  dreams  return  again ! ' ' 

We  feel  how  in  his  loneliness  Lilli  appears  to  him  more 
charming  than  ever;  and,  while  he  believes  himself  free, 
his  longing  for  her  becomes  more  and  more  intense.  His 
journey  now  leads  him  over  the  mountains  to  the  lake  of 
Lucerne.  In  mist  and  rain  he  climbs  the  Rhigi,  drives 
along  the  shore  we  many  of  us  know  so  well,  and  up 
toward  the  St.  Gothard  with  the  firm  resolution  to  go 
down  into  Italy.  But  now  comes  a  turn  in  affairs :  his 
things  are  packed  and  ready  for  the  moment  of  departure, 
when  it  occurs  to  him  that  it  is  Lilli's  birthday,  and  a 
little  golden  heart  she  had  given  him,  which  he  wears 
round  his  neck  on  a  bit  of  ribbon,  catches  his  eye.  He 
kisses  it.  An  unconquerable  longing  overpowers  him. 
He  orders  his  people  to  wheel  about  with  the  luggage, 
and  goes  straight  back  to  Frankfort.  He  tells  us  that  it 
was  at  this  time  that  the  poem  sprang  up  in  his  mind, 
beginning :  — 

"  Angedenken  der  verklungnen  Freude 
Das  ich  immer  noch  am  Halse  trage 
Haltst  Du  langer  als  das  Seelenband  uns  beide? 
Verlangerst  Du  der  Liebe  Tage? 

"  Flieh'  ich,  Lilli,  vor  dir  ?    Muss  noch  an  deinem  Baude 
Durch  fremde  Lande, 
Durch  feme  Thaler  und  Walder  wallen? 
Ach !  Lilli's  Herz  konnte  sobald  nicht 
Von  meinem  Herzeu  fallen. 

"  Wie  der  Vogel,  der  den  Faden  bricht 
Und  zum  Walde  kehrt, 
Er  schleppt  des  Gefangnisses  Schmach 


224  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

Noch  ein  Stiickchen  des  Fadens  nach ; 
Er  1st  der  alte  freigeborne  Vogel  nicht, 
Er  hat  schon  jemaud  angehort." 

Goethe  himself  gives  this  time  as  the  date  of  these 
verses ;  competent  critics,  however,  put  it  later,  and  be- 
lieve they  were  written  when  Goethe,  forever  separated 
from  Lilli,  thought  of  her  in  Thuringia  and  gave  his 
longing  words.  I  myself  am  of  this  opinion,  and  that 
Goethe's  memory  is  at  fault.  So  little  could  even  a  man 
like  Goethe,  who  faithfully  recorded  all  his  experiences, 
give  an  exact  account  of  the  past ;  for  there  is  no  reason 
to  suppose  that  any  literary  motive  tempted  him  to  change 
the  time  of  the  little  poem. 

Before  the  end  of  July  Goethe  was  at  home  again. 
Lilli  was  away  visiting  some  relatives  in  Offenbach.  His 
feeling  for  her  awoke  in  all  its  freshness.  His  letters  at 
this  time  tell  us  how  happy  he  felt  to  be  allowed  to  return 
to  the  all  too  delightful  bondage.  A  letter  to  Lavater, 
written  in  the  middle  of  August,  brings  the  figure  of  the 
beautiful  maiden  before  us.  "  Yesterday  we  rode  out, 
Lilli,  D'Orville,  and  I.  You  should  have  seen  the  angel 
in  her  riding-dress,  on  horseback."  Lilli  was  not  merely 
beautiful;  she  was  versatile,  she  was  charming,  she  was — 
I  pray  you  do  not  misunderstand  the  word — elegant.  And 
so  was  Goethe.  He  paid  great  attention  to  his  appear- 
ance, and  dressed  expensively.  He  spent  more  money  at 
this  time  than  he  gained  by  his  writings  or  than  his 
father  allowed  him ;  and  we  see  him  accepting  money  as 
a  loan  from  his  good  friends  Jacobi,  Frau  Laroche,  and 
others.  As  he  had  himself  a  taste  for  dress,  he  knew 
how  to  value  in  others  the  harmonious  effect  produced  by 
fine  personal  appearance,  and  Lilli,  who  moved  in  society 
with  the  ease  and  grace  of  a  high-born  lady,  certainly  lost 
nothing  in  his  eyes  through  this  attraction. 


THE    SEPARATION   FROM   LILLI.  225 

And  yet  at  the  end  of  the  letter,  in  the  most  unex- 
pected way,  he  asks  Lavater  if  he  will  be  so  kind  as  to 
point  out  to  him  the  things  he  wishes  him  to  see  in  Italy. 
We  find  the  thought  of  this  journey  still  lingering  in  a 
corner  of  his  soul.  Things  did  not  long  continue  as  they 
were.  The  inevitable  change  came.  A  series  of  misun- 
derstandings arose,  for  which  Goethe  and  Lilli  were  not 
alone  to  blame.  There  were  members  of  the  family  who 
for  various  reasons  did  not  approve  of  the  marriage. 
Goethe  does  not  tell  us  all  in  •"  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit," 
but  in  the  conversation  with  Sulpice  Boisseree,  forty  years 
later,  he  is  more  explicit.  We  know  to-day  that  Lilli's 
mother  was  opposed  to  it. 

Certainly  Lilli  did  not  wish  to  be  the  deserted  one, 
neither  could  she  resolve  to  be  the  first  to  withdraw. 
Goethe  says  that  she  once  actually  proposed  to  him  that 
they  should  turn  their  backs  upon  all  these  hindrances 
and  obstacles  and  fly  to  America,  there  to  live  entirely 
for  each  other.  But  of  this  Goethe  could  not  approve, 
and  it  would  seem  as  if  the  thought  with  Lilli  was  only, 
as  Bancroft  says,  "  like  a  cloud  passing  over  a  garden." 
The  manner  of  their  separation  at  last  gives  almost  a 
prosaic  end  to  the  affair. 

In  Frankfort  the  yearly  fair  was  the  great  event :  a 
crowd  of  acquaintances  poured  in  from  all  sides,  and  in 
the  families  fun  and  feasting  reigned.  On  this  occasion 
Lilli  allowed  the  tender  devotions  of  many  young  and  old 
family  friends  and  relations  to  an  extent  which  Goethe 
found  unendurable.  He  remonstrated  earnestly;  and  they 
separated,  without,  it  would  seem,  shedding  too  many 
tears  over  it. 

After  this  rupture,  Goethe  felt  more  than  ever  that 
Frankfort  was  not  the  place  for  him.  The  city  was,  as 
the  Bible  says,  swept  and  garnished  for  him :  he  must  and 

15 


226  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

would  get  away.  The  wish  nearest  to  his  heart  was  to 
see  Italy  ;  but,  as  if  directed  by  Fate,  circumstances  inter- 
vened which  led  him  in  a  wholly  different  direction. 

Shortly  after  Klopstock's  departure  the  two  Weimar 
princes, —  Carl  August  the  elder,  with  his  tutor  Count 
Gorz,  and  Constantine  the  younger,  —  with  Knebel,  for- 
merly a  Prussian  officer,  appeared  at  Goethe's  house. 
They  remained  only  a  few  days,  but  understood  and  liked 
each  other  immediately.  Knebel  especially  —  a  man  of 
thirty  years  of  age,  whom  Goethe  when  he  first  entered 
his  room  in  the  twilight  took  to  be  Jacobi  —  became 
Goethe's  friend.  His  enthusiastic,  pliant  nature  was  as 
great  an  advantage  to  him  in  his  youth  as  it  was  a  disad- 
vantage in  his  old  age.  When  the  princes  went  to  Mentz 
he  remained  behind  with  Goethe,  with  whom  he  hoped 
soon  to  follow  the  others.  In  Mentz  the  intercourse  with 
the  princes  was  renewed,  and  on  the  journey  into  Swit- 
zerland Goethe  met  them  again  in  Carlsruhe.  Carl  August 
had  in  the  mean  time  become  the  betrothed  of  the  Prin- 
cess Louise  of  Hesse  Darmstadt.  Goethe  now  came  into 
more  intimate  relations  with  the  princes  and  began  a 
correspondence  with  Knebel,  by  means  of  which  a  con- 
stant and  lively  communication  with  Weimar  was  main- 
tained. On  Sept.  3, 1775,  Carl  August  assumed  the  reins 
of  government  in  the  place  of  his  mother,  the  widowed 
Duchess  Amalia,  and  repaired  to  Carlsruhe,  where  his 
marriage  was  solemnized.  Upon  the  journey  there  and 
back  he  saw  Goethe  again ;  and  when  with  his  young 
wife,  in  the  middle  of  October,  he  spent  a  day  in  Frank- 
fort, a  visit  to  Weimar  was  planned.  One  of  the  cham- 
berlains, who  was  to  come  after  from  Carlsruhe,  should 
bring  Goethe  on  with  him  in  the  carriage.  Day  and  hour 
were  decided  on,  and  Goethe  instantly  set  about  making 
all  the  necessary  preparations  for  leaving  Frankfort. 


HIS    LIFE   AT   WEIMAR   BEGINS.  227 

But  now  the  whole  thing  seemed  in  doubt :  the  carriage 
did  not  come  ;  day  after  day  he  waited  for  it  in  vain ;  nor 
did  any  letters  appear  to  explain  this  extraordinary  delay. 
It  looked  as  if  they  had  changed  their  minds,  and  con- 
sidered the  easiest  way  to  get  rid  of  the  Frankfort  lawyer 
was  quietly  to  give  him  the  slip.  Goethe,  who  had  had 
no  experience  of  the  uncertain  favor  of  princes,  judged  the 
matter  not  so  badly  as  his  father.  The  truth  was  that 
the  old  gentleman  did  not  wish  his  son  to  go  away  from 
Frankfort,  and  seems  to  have  had  a  presentiment,  since 
the  marriage  with  Lilli  was  no  longer  thought  of,  that 
if  he  once  went  away  he  would  never  come  back  again. 
Kestner  had  before  this  attempted  to  engage  Goethe  in 
some  foreign  service.  This  time  it  really  seemed  as  if 
the  old  gentleman  had  judged  rightly.  Goethe  promptly 
decides  to  go  to  Italy,  and  starts  October  30.  Now  he 
writes  to  no  one,  not  even  to  Augusta  Stolberg,  but  con- 
fides everything  to  his  diary.  The  few  pages  which 
describe  his  journey  to  Heidelberg  are  more  beautiful 
than  any  letters  could  have  been.  In  Heidelberg,  how- 
ever, in  the  night,  he  suddenly  hears  a  postilion  blow  his 
horn  under  his  window.  A  courier  has  been  sent  after 
him  from  Frankfort.  Goethe  once  more  turns  his  back 
on  Jtaly,  and  the  7th  of  November,  1775,  arrives  in 
Weimar. 

On  the  evening  before  his  departure,  as  he  was  stroll- 
ing for  the  last  time  through  the  dark  streets  of  Frank- 
fort, he  came  to  Lilli's  house.  The  sitting-room  was  on 
the  ground  floor  ;  he  looked  in  and  saw  through  the 
dropped  curtains  Lilli  go  to  the  piano,  saw  lights  brought 
to  her,  and  then  heard  her  sing  his  own  song,  "  Where- 
fore so  resistlessly  dost  draw  me  ? "  Goethe  says  he  had 
to  summon  all  his  self-control  to  resist  the  temptation  to 
rush  in  upon  her. 


228  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

This  clinging  of  his  heart  to  a  being  whose  own  heart 
seems  to  have  come  very  little  into  play  is  somewhat 
striking.  Lilli's  strongest  trait,  if  we  go  to  the  root  of 
the  matter,  is  found  in  a  certain  wilful  energy  which 
made  her  refuse  to  set  Goethe  free :  nothing  deeper  than 
this.  She  had  none  of  Frederika's  tenderness  of  nature, 
which  made  the  separation  almost  a  death-blow  ;  none  of 
Lotto's  impressionableness  of  soul :  she  was  fresh,  viva 
cious,  and  had  rather  a  cool  understanding  of  the  world  ; 
nevertheless,  her  promise  once  given,  she  was  capable  of 
a  matter-of-fact,  respectable  loyalty  which  looked  almost 
like  genuine  affection.  Exactly  this  contrast  explains  the 
whole  relation.  Lilli's  resistance,  her  perfectly  self-sus- 
tained demeanor,  piqued  and  charmed  Goethe.  Although 
it  seemed  as  if  he  left  her,  he  had  to  confess  to  himself 
that  in  reality  it  was  she  who  had  left  him.  And  this 
must  have  justified  him  finally  in  the  step  he  had  taken. 

But  he  did  not  so  soon  forget  her.  That  poem  to  the 
golden  heart,  if  indeed  it  was  written  in  Thuringia  instead 
of  Switzerland,  assures  us  of  this.  Another  poem  which 
he  sent  to  Lilli  from  Weimar,  at  the  beginning  of  the 
next  year,  with  the  newly  published  "  Stella,"  speaks  still 
more  clearly :  — 

"  In  the  sweet  vale,  on  snow-crowned  height, 

Thy  image  still  is  near, 
And  pencilled  on  the  clouds  in  light 

The  form  my  heart  holds  dear  ! 
And  love  in  vain  would  fly  from  love, 

Where  heart  is  drawn  to  heart, 
And  ties  by  Nature's  cunning  wove 

No  time  or  distance  part." 

He  has  paid  the  most  beautiful  tribute  to  Lilli's  ever- 
occurring  image  in  his  mind  in  the  "  Night  Song  of  the 
Ranger,"  written  in  January,  — 


LILLl's   LATER   CONFESSION.  229 

"  In  the  field  I  wander  still  and  gloomy." 

Now  only  as  memory  reproduces  her  is  he  conscious 
what  he  had  in  her,  and  what  she  might  have  been  to 
him.  Lilli's  childlike  nature  is  the  excuse  in  his  mind  for 
the  easy  way  in  which  she  gave  him  up.  It  is  possible 
that  Goethe  only  resolved  to  remain  in  Weimar  after 
the  last  prospect  of  a  reconciliation  with  Lilli  had  dis- 
appeared. 

In  a  lovely  way  Fate  took  this  matter  in  charge  ;  and, 
long  years  after  the  events  had  passed  away  which 
troubled  Goethe's  heart  so  much,  we  see  Lilli  appearing 
to  him  and  giving  to  their  love  a  kind  of  consecration. 

Three  years  after  her  separation  from  Goethe,  Lilli 
married  Baron  von  Tiirckheim,  an  Alsatian ;  and,  when 
Goethe  passed  through  Strasburg  in  1779,  he  saw  her 
with  her  first  child,  and  never  saw  her  afterward.  When 
the  French  revolution  broke  out  the  Tiirckheims  fled,  and 
in  the  year  1794-95  reached  Erlangen,  where  Lilli  became 
intimate  with  a  young  Countess  Egloffstein,  a  Weima- 
rian,  who,  although  acquainted  with  Goethe,  had  no  idea 
that  there  was  a  Lilli,  and  that  Frau  von  Tiirckheim  was 
that  Lilli.  But  one  day  Lilli  related  the  story  of  her  life, 
and  confessed,  in  a  most  touching  manner,  Goethe's  influ- 
ence over  her.  She  said  that  she  owed  to  him  her  moral 
and  spiritual  existence ;  that,  in  fact,  she  looked  upon  him 
as  the  creator  of  it ;  and  that  throughout  their  entire  inti- 
macy he  had  considered  her  alone  in  the  most  touching 
manner,  and  had  managed  everything  so  delicately  that 
she  had  come  out  of  the  affair  without  blemish  on  her  fair 
name.  With  an  abandon  which  proved  her  earnest  de- 
sire to  have  Goethe  feel  her  gratitude,  though  late,  Lilli 
made  this  confession  not  for  the  Countess  Egloffstein 
alone,  but  to  beg  her  to  repeat  it  all,  in  her  name,  to 
Goethe.  This  the  countess  nevertheless  omitted  to  do. 


230  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

She  excused  herself  on  the  ground  that,  being  a  young, 
shy  woman,  she  had  not  the  courage  to  speak  to  Goethe 
of  such  things ;  and  later,  when  she  met  him  again  in  his 
old  age,  said,  as  a  sort  of  apology,  that  her  deafness  hin- 
dered her  from  having  any  conversation  with  him.  Many 
years  after  she  resolved  to  write  to  him.  The  letter  is 
dated  1830,  when  Goethe  was  eighty  years  of  age.  He 
was  occupied  at  the  very  time  in  writing  the  close  of 
"  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit,"  which  on  Lotte's  account  he 
had  long  hesitated  to  finish.  He  replied  to  her :  — 

"  Only  with  a  few  words,  my  honored  friend,  can  I  express 
my  profound  gratitude.  I  pressed  your  dear  letter  with  emo- 
tion to  my  lips.  I  do  not  know  how  to  say  more.  But  at  the 
appropriate  hour  may  some  such  refreshing  words  be  vouch- 
safed to  you  as  a  blessed  reward." 

The  countess  describes  Frau  von  Tiirckheim  as  of  slight 
figure,  with  a  gentle,  melancholy  expression. 

Lilli's  children,  when  they  visited  Weimar,  were  re- 
ceived by  Goethe  in  the  friendliest  way.  When  in  1815 
he  related  to  Boissere'e  as  they  travelled  from  Heidelberg 
to  Carlsruhe,  his  love  affair  with  Lilli,  he  hoped  at  that 
time  to  see  Frau  von  Tiirckheim  again  in  Carlsruhe. 
But  he  found  her  not. 


A  NEW   EPOCH  IN   HIS   LIFE   BEGINS.         231 


LECTURE  XII. 

WEIMAR.  — ANNA    AMALIA.  — VON   FRITSCH.— W1ELAND. 

WHEN  Goethe  left  for  Weimar  he  resigned  his  home 
forever.  The  Frankfort  lawyer  was  a  thing  of 
the  past.  Upon  his  decision,  some  months  later,  to  enter 
the  Saxon  state-service,  several  letters  were  written  to  his 
father,  asking  pro  forma  for  his  consent ;  but  what- 
ever answer  he  might  have  received  he  would  never  have 
gone  back  to  his  old  life.  We  see  it  is  decided  from  the 
beginning  that  he  is  to  remain  in  Weimar,  although  the 
form  is  adhered  to  of  speaking  of  it  only  as  a  visit. 
Goethe  subsequently  writes  his  mother  a  very  sensible 
letter,  as  if  all  was  settled  and  clear,  in  which  he  explains 
the  advantages  of  his  new  situation,  and  asks  her  consci- 
entiously what  would  have  been  the  result  if  he  had  chosen 
to  stay  in  Frankfort.  It  appears  that  with  the  help  of 
the  mother  Goethe's  father  was  brought  to  understand 
the  case,  and  was  content  to  have  his  son,  "  since  the 
Duke  could  not  do  without  him,"  Councillor  of  the  Lega- 
tion in  Weimar,  with  a  salary  of  twelve  hundred  thalers 
a  year. 

Goethe  was  twenty-six  years  old  when  he  went  to 
Weimar.  At  this  stage  in  the  development  of  a  man  a 
change  usually  takes  place ;  the  desire  to  learn,  to  receive, 
to  form  attachments,  to  subordinate  oneself,  passes  over 
into  the  necessity  to  impart,  to  teach,  to  command.  Goethe 


232  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

possesses  now,  what  he  has  so  long  .coveted,  a  position  in 
which  he  is  thrown  wholly  upon  his  own  resources.  The 
past  vanishes  like  a  dream,  and  his  life  rests  on  a  new 
foundation. 

When  Goethe  exchanged  Frankfort  for  Weimar,  the 
difference  was  much  greater  to  him  than  to  a  European 
now-a-days  who  seeks  a  home  in  America.  Distances  at 
the  present  time  are  almost  illusory,  while  then  the 
smallest  trip  was  called  a  journey.  Goethe  was  a  South 
German,  or  rather  a  Southwest  German ;  the  Rhine  was 
his  native  stream,  and  wherever  he  had  wandered  all  the 
waters  flowed  toward  the  Rhine.  His  Leipsic  episode  is 
hardly  to  be  counted,  for  not  a  single  thread  spun  there 
held.  The  life  of  the  Rhinelanders  is  a  brisk,  stirring, 
out-of-door  life.  The  land  is  rich  and  luxuriant.  If  a 
year  comes  which  does  not  bring  an  extraordinary  har- 
vest, it  is  counted  among  the  bad  years.  Rich  indepen- 
dent nobles,  rich  merchants,  rich  country-people  gave  the 
tone  to  the  whole  region. 

Middle  Germany  and  Thuringia,  on  the  contrary,  were 
poorer  :  men  lived  at  home  and  practised  economy.  They 
had  not  cellars  full  of  their  own  wines  :  they  drank  beer. 
To  be  frugal  was  respectable ;  and  government  officers 
living  in  a  quiet,  modest  way  gave  the  tone  to  society, 
and  the  years  were  counted  good  which  were  not  posi- 
tively bad. 

In  the  last  century  the  ship-bearing  waters  of  the  Rhine 
lands  had  a  wholly  different  value,  as  a  means  of  traffic, 
from  that  of  the  present  time.  Frankfort  was  the  centre 
of  a  constant  stream  of  people  passing  to  and  fro  ;  while 
Weimar  was  a  poor  little  out-of-the-way  town,  over- 
shadowed by  the  greatness  of  her  neighbor  Erfurt.  The 
Frankfort  houses  were  palaces  compared  with  the  little 
Weimar  dwellings.  Goethe  was  accustomed  to  the  bustle 


WEIMAR   AS    GEOTHE    FIRST   FOUND   IT.        233 

of  a  great  city,  to  hurrying  crowds  and  lively  traffic  :  in 
Weimar  he  found  the  streets  almost  deserted,  and  the  few 
passers-by  loitering  dreamily  along.  The  pitiable  impres- 
sion which  the  city  made  at  that  time  in  the  midst  of  bare 
surroundings,  with  its  walls  and  ditches  and  recently- 
Imrned-down  old  castle,  is  spoken  of  more  than  once.  It 
was  not  the  Weimar  of  to-day,  charmingly  blending  town 
and  country,  witli  its  parks  and  gardens  and  villas  stretch- 
ing out  toward  the  distant  horizon. 

But  with  these  externals  was  associated  a  far  more 
important  internal  difference. 

In  Frankfort  Goethe  was  the  son  of  one  of  the  first 
families.  He  did  not  indeed  belong  to  a  patrician  house  ; 
but  if  his  father  was  sometimes  made  to  feel  a  difference 
in  rank,  in  the  case  of  Goethe  the  son  it  was  wholly 
forgotten.  Young  Goethe  was  a  veritable  prince  among 
the  young  people,  —  elegant,  foremost  in  all  that  was 
going  on,  a  lawyer  whose  opinion  had  already  a  certain 
weight  and  an  acknowledged  literary  power.  While 
restless,  and  constantly  striving  for  progress  and  de- 
velopment, he  was  firmly  established  in  advantageous 
circumstances  which  were  thoroughly  understood  by 
him,  and  with  which  he  was  qualified  to  deal.  But  in 
AYcimar  he  found  himself  transferred  to  an  uncertain 
position,  which  it  depended  upon  him  to  define*  and  estab- 
lish ;  he  was  in  the  midst  of  haughty  nobles,  accustomed 
to  intercourse  only  with  those  of  their  own  station,  and 
from  whom  the  citizens  themselves  on  their  side,  without 
hatred  but  with  decision,  held  themselves  aloof.  To  the 
Bourgeois  Club  in  Weimar  no  noble  was  allowed  admit- 
tance. This  peculiar  position  and  tone  among  the  Thu- 
ringian  nobility  was  the  more  sharply  maintained,  as 
their  poverty  obliged  them  to  depend  upon  the  Court  and 
Government  service  for  their  support. 


234  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

Goethe  —  whose  intercourse  henceforth  was  to  be  only 
among  these  nobles,  who  had  to  tolerate  him  as  a  genius 
and  confidant  of  the  Duke,  although  they  did  not  count 
him  as  one  of  themselves  —  was  placed  in  anything  but 
an  easy  position.  "  Among  the  friends  of  my  youth  there 
was  no  nobleman,"  he  himself  tells  us.  Now  he  was  placed 
in  the  midst  of  them  as  friend,  counsellor,  minister,  and 
educator  of  a  sovereign  not  yet  twenty  years  old.  He  was 
unacquainted  with  Weimar  relations.  He  had  passed 
through  no  previous  training  which  would  enable  him  to 
take  the"  lead  in  practical  affairs ;  still  less  did  he  know 
how  to  obey,  —  and  both  were  henceforth  his  task.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  light-heartedness  of  youth  came  to 
his  aid,  and  prevented  him  from  taking  alarm  at  diffi- 
culties of  which  he  had  had  no  experience.  An  extraor- 
dinary self-reliance  encouraged  him.  He  was  confident 
that  he  was  able  to  carry  through  whatever  he  undertook  ; 
while  after  all,  in  a  certain  sense,  he  looked  down  on  all 
these  petty  doings,  and  knew  he  could  at  any  moment 
break  up  his-  tent  again  and  go  to  Italy,  or  wherever  he 
chose.  He  possessed  the  unlimited  confidence  of  the 
Duke,  and  as  an  old  Darmstadter  was  especially  near 
to  the  Duchess,  who  like  himself  had  been  transplanted 
from  South  Germany  to  Thuringia.  Goethe  was  from 
the  beginning  established  in  the  closest  intercourse  with 
the  Duke's  household,  and  soon  became  indispensable 
in  the  family  councils.  These  relations  were  sealed  by 
the  favor  of  the  Duke's  mother.  This  la'dy  was  the 
soul  of  Weimar  life,  a  most  distinguished  princess,  the 
niece  of  Frederick  the  Great. 

For  the  history  of  the  Duchess-mother,  as  well  as  for 
all  relating  to  the  entrance  of  Goethe  into  Weimar,  we 
have  an  excellent  work  in  the  little  book  by  the  Baron 
von  Beaulieu-Marconnay, — "Anna  Amalia,  Carl  August, 


DUKE    ERNST   AUGUST    CONSTANTLY.  235 

and  the  Minister  von  Fritsch,"  —  which  appeared  in  1874. 
Pritsch  was  the  minister  upon  whom  everything  in  the 
State  had  devolved  until  the  Duke  became  of  age,  and 
who  had  to  be  kept  in  office  by  some  means  or  other 
when,  owing  to  Goethe's  advent,  he  wished  to  resign. 
Fritsch  was  a  stern  disciplinarian,  who  had  long  been  in 
office ;  and  it  did  not  please  him  to  have  to  submit  to  a 
new,  passionate,  eighteen-year-old  sovereign,  and  to  share 
his  power  at  the  same  time  with  a  foreign  literary  advent- 
urer, who  would  continually  stand  between  him  and  his 
master.  The  contents  of  this  book  of  Yon  Beaulieu's  is 
a  detailed  account  of  how  they  succeeded  in  keeping 
Fritsch  in  office.  Beaulieu  himself,  an  old  diplomat, 
knew  exactly  what  to  select  from  the  records,  and  has. 
given  us  a  description  so  carefully  worked  out  that  it 
may  be  called  a  model  of  simplicity  and  clearness.  A 
supplement  to  this  book  contains  a  sketch  of  the  youth 
of  the  Duchess  Anna  Amalia,  by  the  Countess  Julie 
Egloii  stein. 

Amalia's  husband,  the  father  of  Carl  August,  —  Ernst 
August  Constantin, —  was  an  orphan,  educated  in  Gotha 
under  the  guardianship  of  the  House  of  Gotha.  The 
Countess  hints  that  the  intention  existed  in  Gotha  to 
ruin  the  prince  in  order  to  obtain  his  inheritance.  He 
was  sickly,  and  this  was  made  a  pretext  for  not  allow- 
ing the  Weimar  people  to  come  near  him.  He  was  not 
permitted  to  leave  his  chamber,  was  deprived  of  the  neces- 
sary exercise,  and  given  a  kind  of  court  fool  for  a  com- 
panion. However,  through  this  man  the  prince  contrived 
secretly  to  put  himself  in  communication  with  the  Wei- 
mar Government ;  and  by  them  all  the  necessary  steps 
were  quietly  taken  in  Vienna  to  have  the  majority  of 
the  prince  declared  on  his  eighteenth  birthday.  In  the 
same  secret  way  his  marriage  with  the  Princess  of 


236  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

Braunschweig  was  arranged.  Not  until  all  these  prepara- 
tions were  satisfactorily  completed  was  the  matter  made 
public.  The  prince,  freed  from  his  Gotha  prison,  was 
declared  of  age  in  1755,  and  in  1756  was  united  in  mar- 
riage to  the  seventeen-year-old  Anna  Amalia.  The  next 
year  Carl  August  was  born,  and  the  year  after  the  Duke 
died.  Anna  Amalia,  not  twenty  years  of  age,  and  again 
to  become  a  mother,  was  left  by  the  testament  of  the 
Duke  sole  guardian  of  her  children  and  declared  regent 
of  the  dukedom.  This  was  in  1758.  (Let  us  here  re- 
member that  the  Seven  Years'  War  was  going  on  between 
1758  and  1763.)  The  Duchess  was  a  niece  of  Frederick 
the  Great.  At  first  there  seemed  to  be  no  one  on  whom 
she  could  rely,  but  she  was  resolved  to  execute  the  duties 
of  her  office,  and  was  successful. 

One  cannot  sufficiently  admire  the  penetration  shown 
by  Anna  Amalia  in  choosing  the  men  she  needed,  the 
tact  with  which  she  used  them,  and  the  successful  way  in 
which  she  steered  her  little  ship  in  the  midst  of  the  con- 
tending powers  of  Dresden,  Vienna,  and  Berlin. 

At  the  same  time  she  had  to  educate  her  two  sons,  the 
moulding  of  whose  characters  was  no  easy  task.  The 
younger,  Prince  Constantin,  does  not  here  come  under 
our  notice :  he  had  the  weaker  nature,  and  perplexed 
his  teachers  rather  than  offered  any  real  difficulties  in  his 
training.  Carl  August  was  made  of  much  sterner  stuff. 
There  was  something  intractable  in  him,  a  certain  sav- 
agery sometimes  called  rudeness  by  those  about  him, 
excited  and  sustained  by  a  powerful  physique,  though 
held  in  check  by  the  noblest  qualities  of  mind  and  heart. 
But  for  Goethe's  friendship  he  would  never  have  stood 
before  the  world  in  such  a  strong  light,  nor  should  we 
have  known  so  much  about  the  formation  of  his  char- 
acter. But  now  we  follow  his  development  in  connec- 


THE  DUCHESS  ANNA  AMALIA.        237 

tion  with  Goethe's,  and  botli  men  bear  well  this  close 
inspection. 

We  see  from  Beaulieu's  representation  how  very  soon 
this  strong  nature  felt  that  it  was  born  to  rule,  and  with 
what  energy  the  mother  often  had  to  oppose  the  wilful- 
ness  of  the  son.  Many  conflicts  were  necessary  on  both 
sides  before  the  Duchess,  who  had  been  accustomed  to 
hold  the  reins,  and  her  son,  who  early  wished  to  seize 
them,  had  each  found  their  right  position.  At  last  he 
was  of  age,  which  put  an  end  to  this  ambiguous  situation, 
a  good  marriage  crowned  the  whole,  and  the  Duchess 
withdrew  into  private  life.  This  woman  was  the  first  in 
Weimar  to  recognize  what  a  fortunate  thing  it  was  that 
the  Duke  had  chosen  to  attach  Goethe  personally  to 
himself.  She  immediately  became  Goethe's  champion, 
and  his  remaining  in  Weimar  may  be  chiefly  attributed 
to  her. 

The  Duchess  Amalia  had  the  advantage  of  uniting  to  a 
manly  coolness  and  decision  in  business  matters  a  won- 
derful ease  and  grace  in  social  intercourse.  She  was 
good-natured,  cherished  the  best  intentions,  heartily  en- 
joyed life,  and  manifested  a  true  benevolence,  which  when 
not  combined  with  weakness  wins  men  instantly,  and  is 
recognized  by  infallible  signs,  since  it  is  impossible  to 
feign  this  warmth  of  heart.  She  was  finely  educated,  and 
a  fit  companion  for  learned  men  and  artists.  She  drew, 
wrote  some  music,  loved  the  theatre,  and  sought  uncon- 
strained and  genial  society :  in  fine,  she  was  still  young. 
The  Duchess  was  only  thirty-six  years  old  when  it  seemed 
as  if  she  was  expected  to  retire  from  the  stage  and  live  in 
seclusion,  like  one  whose  life-task  was  ended.  But  she 
was  in  full  possession  of  all  her  powers,  and  very  soon 
it  proved  that  there  was  still  something  left  for  her 
to  do. 


238  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

There  are  many  and  excellent  portraits  of  her.  She 
had  a  lively,  expressive  face.  Her  eyes  reminded  one  of 
Frederick  the  Great's,  whom  she  much  resembled  in  later 
years,  as  we  discover  from  a  bust  of  her  taken  at  that 
.time.  Frederick's  eyes  were  once  compared  to  two  pierc- 
ing lights,  and  the  same  might  be  said  of  Amalia's.  How 
Goethe's  eyes  kindled  and  flamed  has  been  often  enough 
described.  When  two  such  natures  met,  they  could  not 
fail  to  appreciate  one  another.  Goethe  was  the  right 
man. 

Let  us  now  see  what  extraordinary  advantages  Goethe 
brought  with  him,  on  his  part,  to  create  in  the  Duchess 
this  instant  decision  in  his  favor.  Goethe  was  a  novelty 
in  Weimar.  No  memory  of  the  discords  which  had  dis- 
turbed the  Regency  of  the  Duchess  were  in  any  way 
connected  with  him.  Goethe  was  young  ;  and,  if  a  prince 
of  eighteen  was  to  be  influenced  by  a  friend,  that  friend 
must  also  be  young.  He  had  a  breadth  of  intellectual 
horizon,  which  could  not  fail  to  impress  Carl  August;  for 
not  only  was  Goethe  fully  imbued  with  all  the  new  ideas 
of  his  time,  but  saw  far  beyond  them.  Withal  he  was 
healthy,  untroubled,  and  as  fond  of  life's  pleasures  as  the 
Duke  himself.  Could  a  person  have  been  found  better 
calculated  to  act  as  a  presence  upon  Carl  August,  and  to 
lead  him  without  his  being  conscious  of  it? 

If  the  Duchess  saw  this  with  her  natural  tact,  she  was 
confirmed  in  her  opinion  by  one  who  possessed  her  con- 
fidence, and  whom  in  all  literary  matters  she  regarded  as 
authority,  —  Wieland. 

Goethe  found  Wieland  in  Weimar.  He  had  long  held 
a  distinguished  position  in  Germany  as  poet  and  writer, 
and  had  been  called  to  WTeimar  four  years  earlier,  where 
he  was  now  permanently  established.  Goethe  took  him 
also  by  storm. 


WIELAND    IN   WEIMAR.  239 

In  the  history  of  German  literature  Wieland  may  prop- 
erly claim  much  space  ;  he  has  exercised  great  influence, 
and  if  he  is  to-day  little  read,  he  was  nevertheless  in  his 
day  one  of  the  mightiest  and  most  fruitful  of  writers. 
Klopstock,  Lessing,  Herder,  and  Wieland  were  the  four 
literary  sovereigns  in  Germany.  That  Goethe  in  the 
beginning  had  rebelled  against  him  was  but  natural,  and 
equally  so  that  Wieland  should  have  taken  offence  at  it. 
The  more  complete  and  the  more  surprising,  therefore,  was 
the  conquest  Goethe  made  when  they  met  in  Weimar ; 
and  the  more  unreservedly  did  Wieland  acknowledge 
Goethe's  superiority. 

.  We  know  all  about  Wieland.  A  great  quantity  of 
elaborate  letters  exist  from  him  and  about  him,  and  more 
than  all  his  nature  had  no  dark  crannies  in  it.  He  was 
good-natured,  vain,  sensitive,  and  needed  a  considerable 
amount  of  barefaced  admiration  :  we  know  at  once  what 
to  think  of  him  ;  one-half  of  the  printed  papers  lying  be- 
fore us  would  be  enough  to  tell  the  whole  story.  Wie- 
land was  editor  of  the  "  German  Mercury,"  —  the  favorite 
magazine  of  the  people,  which  was  conducted  by  him 
with  a  full  consciousness  of  this  fact  and  in  a  way  to 
meet  their  demands.  He  had  the  gift  to  please  the 
public  and,  while  he  appeared  to  lead  the  people,  secretly 
and  in  the  cleverest  manner  to  conform  to  the  ruling 
taste.  He  lacked  independence,  but  was  a  very  active 
man,  and  had  so  much  tact  that  he  seemed  adapted  to 
all  situations  ;  and,  more  than  this,  he  knew  how  to  make 
himself  comfortable  in  all. 

This  German  poet  also  was  the  son  of  a  clergyman. 
Wieland  was  born  in  Biberach,  in  1733 ;  was  consider- 
ably older  than  Goethe,  although  not  really  an  old  man, 
when  they  first  met.  When  he  was  only  twelve  years  of 
age  he  had  composed  presentable  verses  (as  Voltaire  had 


240  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

done  in  his  time),  and  had  been  early  thrust  into  the 
world.  From  the  school  in  Klosterbergen,  near  Magde- 
burg, he  came  when  sixteen  years  old  to  Erfurt,  and 
from  there  a  year  and  a  half  later  returned  to  his  home 
on  the  Rhine,  being  already  at  work  on  a  great  didactic 
poem  called  "  Die  Natur  der  Dinge."  At  this  time  oc- 
curred his  love  affair  with  Sophie  Gutermann  (later  Frau 
von  Laroche).  He  next  went  to  Tubingen  to  study  law, 
but  devoted  himself  exclusively  to  literature,  and  before 
his  twentieth  year  published  his  first  work,  in  which  he 
had  made  Klopstock  his  model.  Wieland  was  always  an 
imitator,  and  had  no  conception  of  anything  else.  He 
next  goes  to  Bodmer  in  Zurich,  and  makes  himself  the 
prophet  of  his  "  Noachide,"  the  genuine  offspring  of  Klop- 
stock's  "  Messiah,"  which  in  turn  gave  him  the  inspira- 
tion necessary  for  an  epic,  glorifying  Frederick  the  Great, 
called  "  Cyrus."  On  this  and  other  things  he  worked 
while  tutor  in  Ziirich.  Scherer  has  attempted  to  disen- 
tangle his  relations  there  with  almost  a  dozen  women  who 
figure  under  allegorical  names  in  his  poems.  In  Bern, 
where  he  was  again  tutor,  he  composed  a  tragedy  in 
1760,  and  accepted  a  permanent  position  in  his  native 
town  of  Biberach  as  director  of  the  chancery.  Two 
years  later  Sophie,  who  in  the  mean  time  had  married 
Herr  von  Laroche,  appeared  in  his  neighborhood,  and  to- 
gether with  her  husband  received  in  the  friendliest  way 
her  old  lover,  who  was  now  entering  a  new  phase  of 
life.  He  catches  the  fashionable  tone,  surrenders  himself 
to  the  influence  of  French  and  English  literature,  and  on 
this  new  basis  displays  an  uncommon  activity.  His  most 
meritorious  work  is  the  translation  of  Shakspeare,  which 
had  come  out  long  before  Goethe's  time,  between  1762 
and  1766.  The  year  that  Goethe  returned  home  from 
Leipsic  and  prepared  himself  for  Strasburg,  Wieland 


WIELAND'S  "  GOLDEN  MIRROR."  241 

went  to  Erfurt,  as  Primarius  Professor  of  Philosophy  and 
Councillor  of  the  Elector  of  Mentz. 

Erfurt,  which  first  became  Prussian  in  1802,  had  been 
from  time  immemorial  one  of  the  chief  seats  of  intellect- 
ual life  in  Germany.  The  Erfurt  University  was  founded 
in  1400.  Luther  studied  there  as  an  Augustine  monk. 
In  the  times  of  the  Reformation  and  throughout  the 
Thirty  Years'  War  Erfurt  had  maintained  her  position  as 
a  free  city,  and  up  to  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury, when  she  fell  under  the  Elector  of  Mentz.  Ten 
years  before  the  arrival  of  Wieland  the  Erfurt  Academy 
of  Science  had  been  founded.  The  Erfurt  library  was 
renowned.  Weimar  gravitated  intellectually  toward  Er- 
furt, until  in  later  years  Jena  took  its  place. 

In  Erfurt,  Wieland  now  offered  his  tribute  to  Rous- 
seau. Wieland's  specialty  was  the  regeneration  of  princes. 
The  title  of  the  book  in  which  he  laid  down  his  theories 
was  the  "  Golden  Mirror ;  or  the  Queen  of  Scheschian." 
He  pictures  an  ideal  State  according  to  his  own  notions, 
which  he  plants  in  Asia.  Asia  toward  the  middle  of  the 
last  century  was  the  Arcadia  of  book-makers.  Persia 
was  the  usual  theatre ;  but  if  virtue  in  man  was  to  be 
described  as  wholly  credible,  the  scene  had  to  be  removed 
to  China.  The  Chinese  were  the  great,  just,  placid  na- 
tion in  whose  character  everything  excellent  was  to  be 
found  as  a  matter  of  course.  What  Wieland  suggests  in 
this  book  for  the  education  of  princes  is  called  "  Chinese 
wisdom."  The  book  contains  an  epitome  of  the  leading 
thoughts  which  might  be  of  use  to  a  prince  who  desired 
to  benefit  his  people.  Considering  that  the  young  Em- 
peror Joseph,  inspired  with  these  very  ideas,  had  just  as- 
cended the  throne,  it  had  been  no  useless  literary  work. 
The  book  made  a  sensation.  Heyne  writes  to  Herder : 
"  Have  you  the  '  Golden  Mirror '  ?  Does  not  the  Wieland 

16 


242  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

genius  develop  itself  to  advantage,  and  run  in  the  groove 
we  would  like  to  have  it  ?  To  be  sure,  most  of  the 
thoughts,  perhaps  all,  are  en  second;  but  the  dress  in 
which  they  are  invested,  even  if  they  themselves  are  bor- 
rowed, has  yet  a  character  of  its  own  it  seems  to  me." 
Herder,  on  the  other  hand,  writes  to  the  Flachsland 
that  he  is  looking  forward  with  great  delight  to  reading 
Wieland's  "  Golden  Mirror ; "  but  after  he  has  read  it 
lie  says  :  "  Properly  speaking,  it  is  only  a  college  lecture 
for  fine  lords  on  politics  and  government,  though  inter- 
spersed with  beautiful  scenes." 

If  we  would  know  with  what  a  sovereign  glance  Goethe 
regarded  these  things,  we  must  read  his  criticism  of  the 
book  in  the  "  Frankfort  Anzeigen."  He  begins  witli  the 
construction  of  the  whole  man,  Wieland ;  points  out  three 
stages  in  his  development,  and  follows  him  to  the  work- 
ing out  of  this  book  —  at  that  time  his  last  work  —  with 
a  calm  assurance  that  excites  our  admiration.  Goethe 
acknowledges  the  utility  of  the  book,  but  does  not  hesi- 
tate to  show  what  models  he  has  had  before  him  ;  and  we 
are  allowed  to  observe  how  little  practical  value  he  really 
attaches  to  such  a  work.  "  How  much  to  be  honored  is 
the  man,"  says  Goethe,  with  light  irony,  "  who,  with 
Wieland's  great  knowledge  of  the  world,  yet  believes  so 
much  in  influence,  and  has  no  worse  an  opinion  of  his 
fellow  citizens  and  the  course  of  things  !  " 

It  was  to  be  expected  that  such  a  book  would  attract 
the  attention  of  Amalia ;  the  more  so,  that  the  political 
wisdom  in  it  was  put  into  the  mouth  of  a  woman.  Wie- 
land was  invited  the  next  winter  to  a  masked  ball  at 
Weimar.  The  Duchess  begs  his  advice  with  regard  to 
the  principles  in  which  her  sons  shall  be  educated,  and 
he  imparts  them  to  her  in  a  long,  elegantly-composed, 
sentimental  letter.  A  careful  delineation  of  the  character 


WIELAND'S   ADMIKATION    OF    GOETHE.         243 

of  the  prince  is  given,  for  whom  only  one  thing  is  neces- 
sary, that  "  he  should  be  made  an  enlightened  ruler."  The 
further  somewhat  long-winded  correspondence  between 
Wieland  and  the  Duchess  cannot  be  judged  according  to 
the  standard  of  to-day,  but  we  see  again  with  what  con- 
scientiousness men  sought  to  raise  themselves  above  old 
prejudices,  and  to  gain  what  was  understood  as  enlight- 
enment. 

Wieland  was  not  comfortable  in  Erfurt :  the  professors 
there  did  not  appreciate  him.  He  needed  something  that 
was  to  be  found  in  Weimar  rather  than  Erfurt.  Thither 
he  transferred  his  residence  in  1772,  where  he  started 
the  "  German  Mercury,"  and  by  stories,  poems,  and  other 
literary  productions  increased  in  every  way  his  reputa- 
tion. His  fulsome  flatteries,  his  adulation  of  the  public, 
his  literary  bad  manners  now  found  full  opportunity  for 
display,  and  gave  Goethe  and  his  friends  a  distaste  for 
him  which  broke  out  openly  in  the  satirical  pamphlet, 
"  Gods,  Heroes,  and  Wieland  !  "  It  is  not  necessary  to 
follow  up  these  matters,  for  they  amounted  to  nothing. 
Frau  Laroche,  Jacobi,  and  others  again  and  again 
smoothed  things  between  them.  Wieland  put  up  with  a 
good  deal ;  and  Goethe  before  going  to  Weimar  wrote  to 
him,  whereupon  Wieland  immediately  signified  that  he 
had  experienced  a  radical  change  in  his  feelings  towards 
him.  But  the  grand  effect  was  reserved  for  their  per- 
sonal meeting.  Wieland  fell  down  in  admiration,  and 
began  to  write  like  Jacobi  in  "  Lavater-Goethean  style," 
which  before  this  he  had  sneered  at  in  the  "  Mercury." 

Once  together  in  Weimar,  Goethe  on  his  part  did  not 
fail  in  admiration.  Wieland  completed  the  poem  which 
alone  among  all  his  works  lives  to-day,  according  to 
Goethe's  prediction,  who,  after  reading  it,  declared  that 
it  would  be  admired  so  long  as  the  German  language 


244  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

existed,  —  the  romantic  epic  of  "  Oberon."  In  the  grace- 
ful tone  which  had  its  origin  among  the  Italians  in  the 
sixteenth  century,  and  whose  irony  was  imitated  by  the 
French  until  it  broadened  into  wanton  mockery,  Wieland 
relates  the  adventures  of  Huon,  who  is  sent  by  Charles 
the  Great  to  Babylon,  and  commanded  to  bring  back 
several  impossible  and  unattainable  things.  In  imitation 
of  the  Italian  rhythm  later  poets  have  been  more  suc- 
cessful, —  that  is  to  say,  more  correct,  —  but  no  one,  after 
Wieland,  added  to  it  the  grace  and  playfulness  of  the 
French.  Goethe's  enthusiasm  is  indeed  conceivable. 

The  ecstasy  into  which  Wieland  had  fallen  we  find 
soon  spreading  throughout  Weimar  society,  as  Goethe, 
author  of  "  Gotz "  and  "  Werther,"  appeared  among 
them,  it  was  said,  for  a  visit.  He  was  hailed  as  the 
Adam  of  a  regenerated  spiritual  world,  for  which  people 
in  Weimar  and  elsewhere  ardently  longed.  The  first 
winter  was  before  them,  in  which  the  youthful  Court, 
with  festivities  of  all  kinds,  was  to  make  its  debut ;  a 
round  of  entertainments,  very  innocent  in  themselves,  but 
wholly  filling  the  heads  of  men  by  day  and  by  night,  were 
to  be  carried  on.  In  proportion,  however,  as  men  came 
to  realize  that  Goethe's  presence  among  them  was  more 
than  a  visit,  angry  feelings  sprang  up  among  those  too  old 
to  be  amused  by  such  things ;  who  knew  full  well  that 
sobriety  of  counsels  and  a  thorough  knowledge  of  affairs 
were  essential  to  government,  and  with  what  effort  they 
had  created  the  existing  state  of  things,  laboriously  sav- 
ing by  pennies  the  money  now  so  lavishly  flung  away. 
They  knew  the  day  must  come  when  their  help  would  be 
needed  again.  We  have  to  consider  things  in  this  light 
to  comprehend  the  opposition  of  Herr  von  Fritsch,  or 
to  appreciate  the  masterly  management  of  Goethe,  who 
was  able,  amid  these  circumstances,  to  retain  this  deeply 


KLOPSTOCK'S  CRITICISM  OF  GOETHE.       245 

wounded  man  in  the  service  of  the  Duke  and  the  country. 
Herr  von  Beaulieu  leads  us  step  by  step  through  these 
transactions  until  we  come  to  know  Goethe  as  a  skilful 
diplomatist,  to  see  the  Duke  yielding  in  a  dignified, 
truly  princely  manner,  and  to  observe  with  a  kind  of  sat- 
isfaction that  when  nobody  knows  where  to  turn,  Anna 
Amalia  steps  in  and  finds  the  right  word  which  finally 
persuades  Fritsch  to  remain.  The  letters  in  which  these 
matters  are  negotiated  are  in  the  highest  degree  interest- 
ing. All  four  characters  stand  forth  unreservedly,  and  in 
the  conflict  between  them  each  makes  clear  to  the  other 
of  what  stuff  he  is  made.  And  when  Fritsch  at  last 
gains  sufficient  confidence  to  consent  to  remain  and  work 
in  union  with  Goethe,  he  offers  the  most  flattering  trib- 
ute not  only  to  Goethe  himself,  but  acknowledges  to  the 
Duke  and  his  mother  at  the  same  time  that  they  have 
not  made  a  mistake  in  the  choice  of  their  new  friend. 

This  concession  in  a  man  who  was  moved  by  no  out- 
ward considerations,  and  who  conscientiously  took  coun- 
sel only  with  himself,  will  be  of  yet  further  use  to  us  in 
judging  Goethe  and  the  Duke. 

In  the  same  May,  1776,  in  which  these  things  were 
talked  of,  Klopstock's  famous  letter  came  about  the  scan- 
dalous doings  in  Weimar,  of  which  monstrous  reports  had 
reached  him  in  Hamburg.  Goethe  was  now,  in  Klop- 
stock's eyes,  a  man  who  allured  a  young  and  virtuous 
prince,  expected  to  promote  the  welfare  of  his  people,  into 
ways  of  wickedness  and  vice.  We  mus.t  consider  what 
earnest  things  were  going  on  in  Weimar,  in  order  to  un- 
derstand fully  how  Goethe  came  to  answer  the  revered 
Hamburg  uncle  in  a  manner  which  sounds  so  disre- 
spectful. For,  with  all  the  severity  contained  in  Klop- 
stock's letter,  there  is  yet  transparent  through  it  all  his 
real  anxiety  for  the  moral  well-being  of  the  Duke  and 


246  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

Goethe,  two  young  people  of  the  greatest  promise,  and 
with  whom  it  was  really  quite  proper  that  he  should  re- 
monstrate. Goethe  repels  Klopstock's  interference  coldly, 
or  we  may  say  roughly,  but  at  the  same  time  gives  the 
necessary  explanations,  if  not  quite  directly.  The  Stol- 
berg  brothers  were  at  the  root  of  all  this  trouble.  The 
Weimar  princes  had  offered  them  the  place  of  chamber- 
lain, and  the  plans  were  settled,  when  reports  reached 
Klopstock's  ears  of  debaucheries  in  Weimar,  how  they 
drank  brandy  out  of  beer-glasses,  and  the  Duke  and 
Goethe  had  their  mistresses  in  common,  etc.  ;  and  he 
vetoed  instantly  the  whole  arrangement  and  wrote  the 
letter. 

Goethe  now  appeals  again  to  his  trusted  friend  Gust- 
chen.  His  long  letter  to  her  contains  a  statement  of 
entire  days  spent  in  Weimar,  with  what  thoughts  he  arises 
in  the  morning,  where  he  goes,  what  he  does,  thinks,  and 
feels  :  just  as  he  used  to  write  to  her  about  Lilli.  This 
letter  gives  a  glance  into  Weimar  life,  and  like  a  sunbeam 
lights  up  the  whole  scene,  showing  a  simple,  rural,  quiet 
life,  in  the  midst  of  much  heat,  perplexity,  and  unrest. 
We  must  add  that  one  of  the  Stolbergs  declared  in  the 
most  decided  way  that,  even  if  he  gave  up  going  to 
Weimar,  he  believed  the  wide-spread  rumors  about  Goethe 
and  the  Duke  were  scandals. 

But  it  is  not  through  this  letter  alone  that  we  learn 
how  things  went  on  at  the  Court  in  Weimar.  With 
Goethe's  entrance  into  his  new  home  began  the  new  and 
all-absorbing  friendship  which  led  to  communications 
year  by  year,  and  almost  day  by  day,  of  all  he  thought 
and  did,  which  may  be  considered  unique  of  their  kind. 


FIRST   TEN   TEARS   AT    WEIMAR.  247 


LECTURE  XIII. 

FRAU   VON   STEIN. 

und  Wahrheit  "  closes  with  Goethe's 
arrival  in  Weimar.  His  autobiography  was  con- 
tinued in  summarized  reports  of  each  year,  whose  form 
differs  greatly  from  that  adhered  to  in  "  Dichtung  und 
Wahrheit."  They  are  rather,  as  one  may  say,  indexes 
of  men,  events,  and  deeds. 

Yet  we  are  not  wanting  in  material  for  the  further  de- 
scription of  these  years ;  on  the  contrary,  documents  of 
every  kind  are  constantly  coming  to  light  increasing  our 
information  about  them :  but  the  loss  of  the  old  tone  in 
Goethe's  own  narration  remains  irreparable,  since  noth- 
ing can  compensate  for  the  want  of  that  element  which 
he  himself,  as  distinguished  from  truth,  designates  as  fic- 
tion. The  myth  of  every  man's  life  is  formed  in  his  own 
recollection.  Only  before  the  inward-turned  look  do  our 
experiences  round  themselves  off  into  distinct  groups, 
each  having  its  own  definite  outline  and  coloring.  The 
relation  of  these  groups  to  one  another  cannot  be  stated 
by  strangers  ;  and  therefore  we  can  go  no  further  with 
the  confidence  we  have  hitherto  felt,  since  Goethe  ceases 
from  this  time  connectedly  to  disclose  the  secrets  of 
his  life. 

With  the  acceptance  of  his  new  position  in  Weimar 
begins  the  epoch  of  the  Ten  Years  which  closes  with 
the  journey  to  Italy,  and  of  which  the  distinguishing 


248  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

feature  is  the  unexpected  change  wrought  in  Goethe  as  a 
literary  man. 

We  have  seen  how  Goethe,  from  year  to  year,  ap- 
proached nearer  to  his  ideal,  which  was  to  free  himself 
from  the  duties  of  common  life  and  to  live  only  for  po- 
etry ;  but  now,  at  the  very  outset  of  his  life  in  Weimar, 
we  find  a  change  in  his  principles  and  in  his  habits  which 
fills  us  with  amazement.  Goethe  breaks  off  abruptly 
from  his  unremitting  literary  -labor.  He  gives  up  the  old 
circle  of  Frankfort,  Darmstadt,  and  Rhenish  friends, — 
the  primitive  public  for  which  he  had  written, —  stands 
aloof  from  them,  both  as  poet  and  critic,  and  enters  upon 
his  new  life  by  renouncing  all  poetical  and  literary  work. 
The  glory  of  belonging  to  the  young  poets  who  were 
the  hope  of  Germany  no  longer  allures  him. 

If  you  look  in  "  Hirzel's  Catalogue"  for  what  Goethe 
published  in  poetry  or  prose,  between  the  years  1776  and 
1786,  you  will  find  the  yearly  column  becoming  ever 
smaller.  He  is  wholly  engrossed,  during  the  first  ten 
years,  with  his  official  duties,  and  devotes  his  best  powers 
to  the  fulfilment  of  all  the  obligations  he  has  taken  upon 
himself.  This  he  does  with  a  steadfastness  which  we 
admire  the  more,  in  that  we  perceive  how  soon  he  begins 
to  realize  the  monstrous  burden  of  these  tasks  and  their 
fruitlessness. 

This,  in  general,  is  the  substance  of  that  epoch  con- 
cerning the  particulars  of  which  we  are  accurately  in- 
formed, as  to  the  earlier  part,  by  Schb'll  and  Diintzer ; 
as  to  the  latter,  by  Burkhardt  and  Keil,  who  tell  us  what 
Goethe  did  and  did  not  do  from  day  to  day.  We  have 
the  most  intimate  knowledge  of  things,  the  connection 
of  which  certainly  no  one  in  his  time  would  have  believed 
could  be  ascertained  after  so  many  years  with  such  hair- 
splitting exactness ;  and  yet  all  these  records  do  not 


DISTINCTIVE  EVENT  OF  THE  TEN  YEARS.      249 

make  up  for  the  one  glimpse  into  the  peculiar  relation  of 
events  which  Goethe  in  many  cases  wished  to  conceal,  and 
which  no  amount  of  criticism  can  now  bring  to  light. 
Hence  it  is  that,  although  we  have  such  abundant  informa- 
tion, we  miss  with  each  fresh  addition  only  the  more  pain- 
fully the  cunning  hand  of  the  master  himself,  who  no  longer 
fits  together  the  building-stones  of  his  life  as  he  has  hith- 
erto done  to  form  a  distinct  edifice.  The  farther  the  man 
advances  in  life  the  more  distracted  are  his  days  !  To 
Goethe  himself  the  vicissitudes  through  which  he  was 
passing  must  have  seemed  ever  less  coherent,  and  the 
goal  for  which  he  was  striving  ever  more  enigmatical. 
He  felt,  indeed,  that  apart  from  outward  considerations, 
which  compelled  him  to  be  silent,  only  our  youthful  days 
transform  themselves  into  fiction,  or  at  least  that  later 
days  are  less  adapted  to  such  transformations. 

Let  us  now  try,  so  far  as  possible,  to  combine  the 
particulars  into  a  concrete  whole.  The  Ten  Years  of 
which  I  have  just  spoken  are  not  a  critic's  arbitrary 
division.  Goethe  himself  speaks  of  them  as  a  whole  ; 
while  he  also  calls  them  his  Second  Literary  epoch. 
These  years  have  so  much  in  common  with  each  other, 
and  stand  in  such  marked  contrast  to  all  that  preceded 
as  well  as  followed  them,  that  it  seems  necessary  to 
speak  of  them  as  a  special  period. 

Most  distinctly  Goethe  appears  before  us,  during  their 
continuance,  in  his  connection  with  Frau  von  Stein,  who 
so  wholly  chained  him  to  herself  that  it  almost  seemed 
as  if  this  woman  held  him  as  firmly  as  Calypso  held 
Ulysses.  Goethe's  love  for  Frau  von  Stein  has  become 
of  the  more  importance  as,  since  the  publication  of  their 
correspondence,  —  that  is  to  say,  of  the  letters  which 
Goethe  wrote  to  her  (for  hers  to  him  are  said  to  have  been 
burned) ,  —  the  question  what  relation  they  bore  to  one 


250  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

another  has  been  renewed,  and  has  especially  of  late  been 
discussed  with  vehemence,  indeed  almost  with  malignity. 

Goethe's  love  affairs  prior  to  his  life  in  Weimar  were 
all  marked  by  one  peculiarity,  which  was  that  he  himself 
had  given  to  the  beloved  ones  the  power  to  enchant  him. 
It  is  an  Oriental  legend  that  the  touch  of  a  maiden's 
hand  causes  the  trees  to  bloom.  Goethe  meets  a  simple, 
lovely  creature :  his  heart,  by  chance  in  need  of  a  god- 
dess, feels  the  whole  fire  of  his  own  nature  reflected  from 
the  face  of  this  maiden,  whose  eyes,  beautiful  though 
they  are,  could  never  possess,  apart  from  Goethe,  such 
luminous  power.  And  each  time  the  same  natural  pro- 
cess is  repeated  :  after  a  brief  period  of  blossoming  there 
comes  a  pause ;  the  blossoms  do  not  expand,  but  droop 
gently,  then  fade,  and  all  is  over.  Nothing  remains  but 
the  painful  question,  How  could  such  a  thing  befall  one  ? 
It  was  the  same  even  with  Lilli ;  and  that  she  was  a  little 
wiser  than  Lotte,  Frederika,  and  others  whom  I  have  not 
named  made  no  material  change.  But  in  Frau  von  Stein 
Goethe  encountered  for  the  first  time  a  nature  that  pos- 
sessed its  own  fire. 

Goethe's  letters  to  Frau  von  Stein,  from  1776  to  1826, 
have  been  published  in  three  volumes  by  A.  Scholl,  to 
whom  we  are  indebted  for  the  best  accounts  of  this  time. 
From  the  Stein  family  papers  Diintzer  compiled  a  biog- 
raphy of  "  Charlotte  von  Stein,  Goethe's  Friend,"  in  two 
volumes.  In  the  strife  regarding  the  nature  of  her  rela- 
tion to  Goethe,  Julian  Schmidt,  Diintzer,  Stahr,  Keil,  and 
Edmund  Hb'fer  have  taken  part.  This  contest  still  goes 
on.  It  is  not  my  intention  to  enter  into  it,  nor  to  dis- 
cuss the  statements  of  these  contending  parties,  but  sim- 
ply to  express  my  own  opinion. 

The  letters  of  Goethe  to  Charlotte  von  Stein  form  one 
of  the  most  beautiful  and  touching  memorials  in  all  liter- 


HIS   KELATIONS   WITH   FEAU   YON   STEIN.     251 

ature.  They  will  be  read  and  commented  on  so  long  as 
the  present  German  language  shall  be  understood.  Not 
only  from  these  letters,  but  from  a  remarkable  wealth  of 
material  of  every  kind,  we  are  perfectly  informed  as  to 
Frau  von  Stein's  character,  as  well  as  concerning  her  inter- 
course and  that  of  her  widely  spread  family  with  Goethe. 

From  all  these  documents,  I  think  it  impossible  to 
characterize  Frau  von  Stein's  relation  to  Goethe  other- 
wise than  as  a  devoted  friendship  of  the  noblest  kind  ; 
if  it  was  not,  then  we  must  assume  an  amount  of  lying, 
self-deception,  obliviousness,  and  effrontery  on  the  part 
of  Frau  von  Stein,  and  an  amount  of  coolness,  coarseness, 
and  (we  repeat)  effrontery  on  Goethe's  part,  to  which 
their  natural  capacities  were  wholly  inadequate.  In  order 
to  maintain  the  unnecessary  hypothesis  that  Frau  von 
Stein  was  Goethe's  mistress,  we  must  arbitrarily  impute 
to  them  qualities  of  which  the  rest  of  their  lives  furnish 
no  evidence. 

We  know,  indeed,  how  liable  we  are  to  be  deceived. 
One  has  only  to  read  the  reports  of  recent  lawsuits  to 
discover  how  men  reveal  themselves  when  all  veils  are 
unsparingly  torn  away,  how  incorrect  men  often  are  in 
their  judgment  of  those  nearest  to  them,  and  indeed  how 
almost  impossible  it  is,  through  the  mass  of  testimony, 
to  decide  positively  what  truth  and  what  falsehood  there 
are  in  a  character.  I  will,  therefore,  in  no  wise  assert  that 
my  belief  regarding  the  nature  of  the  connection  between 
Frau  von  Stein  and  Goethe  admits  of  proof  in  a  legal 
sense :  I  will  only  speak  of  my  conception  of  it. 

It  is  through  personal  experience  alone  that  we  are 
able  to  estimate  human  relations.  Every  year  adds  to 
our  store  of  knowledge  and  judgment  with  regard  to-  all 
that  human  life  brings  with  it.  When  we  hear  that  a 
man,  having  first  murdered  his  wife  and  children,  calmly 


252  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

goes  into  the  tavern,  we  do  not  indignantly  exclaim  :  "  I 
will  never  believe  such  an  insult  to  humanity  until  I  am 
absolutely  forced  to  do  so  ;"  but  we  confess  to  ourselves 
that  such  things,  alas !  have  happened  often  enough, 
though  experience  in  such  matters  is  mainly  confined  to 
police-officers  ;  yet  a  certain  knowledge  of  the  world,  ob- 
tained as  a  rule  through  the  newspapers,  teaches  us  that 
such  things  do  occur. 

Opposed,  however,  to  these  overt  crimes,  of  which  as 
spectators  we  very  rarely  have  direct  knowledge,  there 
are  cases  which  would  be  better  described  as  disorders, 
and  concerning  which  our  judgment  is  formed  not  from 
the  newspapers,  but  from  our  personal  experience.  For 
instance,  if  the  relation  between  a  married  woman  and  her 
admirer  is  spoken  of,  everybody  has  some  idea  in  regard 
to  it,  but  the  judgment  is  restrained ;  not  everything  said 
is  instantly  accepted  as  true,  nor  is  everything  denied, — 
the  matter  is  allowed  to  rest  until  one  can  come  in  con- 
tact with  the  people  who  are  definitely  informed  about 
it ;  one  does  not  immediately  declare  it  to  be  adulterous. 
But  even  if  this  were  admissible  from 'a  legal  standpoint, 
still  in  the  case  before  us  we  have  to  deal  with  wholly  pe- 
culiar circumstances,  and  we  know,  as  a  fact,  how  subtile 
social  distinctions  are. 

No  one,  in  judging  Frau  von  Stem's  relation  to  Goethe 
would  dream  of  saying  that  we  must  make  the  frightful 
choice  of  deciding  whether  it  was  an  innocent  or  a  crim- 
inal relation.  The  case  is  treated  more  superficially. 

And  therefore  why  should  we,  on  the  one  hand,  take 
the  position  of  champion  to  clear  this  woman  from  a  ruin- 
ous charge  when  no  one  wishes  to  ruin  her,  or  on  the 
other  hand  why  should  we,  without  ceremony  and  only 
on  the  ground  of  possibility,  assume  Frau  von  Stein  to 
have  been  guilty  of  such  conduct  as  no  one  could  bear  to 


THE    VON  STEIN  AFFAIR   DISCUSSED.           253 

have  his  mother  charged  with  ?  Are  we  to  attribute  the 
legal  axiom  quisque  praesumitur  bonus  to  a  chance  be- 
nevolence of  Roman  lawyers,  who  were  certainly  not  be- 
nevolent, or  did  it  well  up  out  of  genuine  human  experi- 
ence ?  Is  there  anything  in  Frau  von  Stein  and  Goethe 
which  compels  us  to  suppose  an  intercourse  which  would 
be  hideous  in  view  of  Goethe's  close  relation  to  the  hus- 
band of  his  friend  and  to  their  children  ?  Do  such  things, 
save  in  the  conception  of  French  sensation  novelists,  hap- 
pen every  day  ? 

Has  any  one  ever  encountered  in  his  own  experience, 
or  heard  from  others,  of  circumstances  like  the  following : 
A  young  man  enters  a  family  in  which  he  soon  assumes 
toward  the  wife  the  position  and  all  the  rights  of  a  hus- 
band ;  the  husband,  universally  esteemed  as  an  honor- 
able man,  pretends  not  to  know  anything  of  it,  or  really 
does  not  know  anything  of  it ;  the  children  become 
deeply  attached  to  this  friend  of  the  mother ;  a  friend- 
ship springs  up  openly  under  the  eyes  of  a  sharp-sighted 
little  town,  while  such  a  veil  is  drawn  over  its  essential 
feature,  and  preserved,  that  no  one,  even  had  he  been 
willing,  dares  say  anything  ill  of  the  lady  in  question; 
and  when  in  after  years  an  estrangement  takes  the  place 
of  the  old  intimacy,  so  that  once  again  everybody  talks 
of  it,  even  then  not  the  faintest  suspicion  is  whispered 
against  her !  This  is  now  said  to  have  been  possible. 
After  almost  a  hundred  years,  on  the  authority  of  some 
incomplete  published  letters,  a  preposterous  relation  is 
said  to  have  existed,  which  relation  is  not  supposed  to 
need  any  facts  to  verify  it !  It  seems  to  me  that  this  should 
not  be  permitted,  not  so  much  for  Goethe  and  Frau  von 
Stein's  sake,  as  in  the  interests  of  historical  methods.  I 
am  not  here  to  take  up  the  gauntlet.  The  people  are 
long  since  dead,  and  such  matters  are  no  concern  of  mine. 


254  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

To  us  neither  Goethe  nor  Frau  von  Stein  are  of  so  much 
consequence  as  the  integrity  of  scientific  investigations. 
We  are  often  obliged,  in  the  study  of  conspicuous  men,  to 
wade  through  a  pool  of  immorality  for  the  sake  of  what 
they  achieved,  and  to  hold  fast  to  their  writings  while 
trying  to  forget  the  rest ;  but  why  artificially  make  a 
swamp,  when  a  dry,  clean  path  lies  before  us  ? 

Making  such  use  of  our  material  as  its  nature  allows, 
what  are  the  facts  by  which  to  judge  Goethe  and  Frau 
von  Stein  ? 

We  see  a  woman  of  somewhat  cool  temperament,  who 
from  her  youth  has  been  accustomed  to  render  an  exact 
account  to  herself  of  her  life.  She  is  married  and  the 
mother  of  many  children.  She  lives  in  no  way  separated 
from  her  husband,  whom  she  indeed  has  never  passion- 
ately loved,  but  who  treats  her  well,  and  with  whom  she 
has  lived,  and  still  lives,  in  entire  harmony.  With  this 
woman  Goethe  becomes  acquainted.  An  enthusiastic  ad- 
miration for  her  seizes  him,  which  extends  to  her  whole 
family,  not  excluding  her  husband.  From  this  moment 
Goethe  makes  the  interests  of  this  family  in  every  respect 
his  own.  One  of  these  children  he  educates,  takes  him 
into  his  own  house  for  a  time,  remains  through  life  his 
highly  revered  friend ;  and  the  child  develops  into  a  sa- 
gacious, energetic,  and  by  no  means  insignificant  man, 
whose  friendship  is  not  changed  in  any  degree,  even  af- 
ter Goethe  has  ceased  to  see  his  mother  :  nothing  could 
be  more  respectful  than  the  letters  in  which  Fritz  von 
Stein  to  the  very  last  maintains  his  intercourse  with 
Goethe.  No  disagreement  ever  arose  between  the  hus- 
band of  Frau  von  Stein  and  Goethe.  Never  has  the  hon- 
orable character  of  Herr  von  Stein  been  doubted.  Last 
of  all,  it  may  be  mentioned  that  the  old  confidence 
was  replaced  by  a  genuine  mutual  esteem  in  later 


OPINION  IN  WEIMAR  OF  THE  STEIN  AFFAIR.    255 

days,  when  Goethe  renewed  his  friendship  for  Frau  von 
Stein. 

Let  us  uow  see  how  this  intercourse  was  judged  in  Wei- 
mar. The  severest  thing  said  of  Frau  von  Stein  was  that, 
amid  such  hopeless  prospects,  she  was  willing  for  long 
years  to  monopolize  the  thoughts  and  feelings  of  a  man 
much  younger  than  herself. 

It  is  known  that  Schiller,  before  his  friendship  with 
Goethe  began,  was  his  passionate  opponent.  Schiller 
confesses  that  he  was  jealous  of  Goethe,  and  that  it  would 
have  pleased  him  to  discover  weaknesses  in  his  mighty 
rival,  —  not  to  make  them  conspicuous,  but  as  an  apology 
to  himself  for  his  own  dislike.  Schiller  came  to  Weimar 
when  Goethe  was  in  Italy.  He  mentions,  in  his  account 
of  life  in  Weimar,  that  Frau  von  Stein  received  the  most 
letters  from  Goethe  at  this  time  ;  but  he  says  also,  quite 
incidentally  as  one  repeats  such  gossip,  that  no  one  was 
able  to  cast  the  slightest  reproach  upon  this  lady  in  re- 
lation to  Goethe.  And  yet  at  that  time  every  sort  of 
gossip  was  rife  in  Weimar ! 

This,  however,  is  not  my  final  reason  for  holding  the 
opinion  I  do  of  this  relation:  there  are  yet  stronger 
proofs. 

We  can  trace  through  the  whole  of  Goethe's  life  the  im- 
pulse to  confess.  He  entered  into  no  relation  that  is  not 
somewhere  symbolized  in  his  writings.  If  the  intercourse 
between  Goethe  and  Frau  von  Stein  had  ever  been  clan- 
destine, we  should  certainly  find  a  confession  of  it  some- 
where in  his  works.  Considering  Goethe's  intimate 
relations  with  the  son  and  husband  of  Frau  von  Stein, 
what  monstrous  conflicts  must  have  gone  on  in  the  sol- 
itude of  his  own  soul,  if  he  were  her  secret  lover  and  she 
in  later  years  his  publicly  forsaken  mistress !  But  no- 
where in  his  writings  do  we  find  an  attempt  to  portray 


256  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

anything  of  the  sort,  or  even  symbolically  to  lead  us  to 
infer  it. 

And  now,  finally,  let  us  put  Frau  von  Stein  upon  trial. 
This  lady  had  literary  gifts.  When  her  friendship  with 
Goethe  was  rudely  severed,  she  was  filled  with  an  inde- 
scribably bitter  feeling.  What  could  she  lay  hold  of  by 
which  to  recover  herself,  and  how  could  she  give  vent  to 
her  feelings  ?  She  had  been  taught  by  Goethe  to  transform 
real  experiences  into  poetry.  She  composes  a  drama,  in 
which  in  hateful  colors  she  paints  the  change  that  in  her 
opinion  has  taken  place  in  Goethe,  and  which  she  regards 
as  the  cause  of  his  estrangement.  She  never  withholds 
this  work,  but  shows  it  to  many  people.  We  have  a  letter 
of  Schiller's  about  it,  in  which  he  highly  commends  it. 

But  what  subject  did  she  choose  ?  Dido  !  She  repre- 
sents herself  as  Dido  ;  if  not,  indeed,  as  the  Dido  forsaken 
by  ^Eneas,  still  as  the  woman  whose  name  vre  can  never 
hear  without  instantly  thinking  of  ^Eneas,  and  how  and 
why  she  was  by  him  forsaken.  Would  any  one  believe 
such  indelicacy  possible  ?  A  deserted  mistress,  who,  in- 
stead of  at  least  being  silent,  parades  herself  before  her 
family  and  friends  as  Dido,  —  and  sueli  friends  as  the 
Duchess  Louisa,  Schiller's  wife,  and  other  women  of  like 
character !  They  read  the  drama,  accept  it,  and  retain 
for  the  author  of  it,  in  their  intercourse  and  in  their 
hearts,  their  early  love,  reverence,  and  esteem. 

Life  brings  with  it  many  surprises  ;  but  if  we  are  to 
believe  things  of  this  sort,  except  on  the  most  convincing 
proof,  I  know  not  why  the  like  may  not  be  imputed  to 
our  own  wives,  mothers,  and  daughters. 

This  is  all  I  have  to  say  on  this  great  controversy. 
Let  me  proceed  to  depict  the  friendship  as  if  such  things 
had  never  been  said. 

Goethe's  letters  to  Frau  von  Stein  consist  of  a  series  of 


CHARACTERISTICS    OF   FRAU   VON"   STEIN".      257 

almost  innumerable  billets.  I  know  no  other  correspon- 
dence which  mirrors  so  instantaneously  the  slightest 
modulations  of  a  heart.  Poems  are  interspersed.  If  he 
or  she  leaves  Weimar,  the  notes  become  letters  or  diaries. 
Like  a  deep  unbroken  melody,  ten  years  of  Goethe's  life 
flow  on  in  the  same  strain.  So  constantly  is  he  by  day 
and  by  night  hovering  about  this  woman,  that  it  seems 
as  if  he  neither  thought  nor  did  anything  which  was  not 
contained  in  these  letters.  We  overlook  the  fact  that 
weeks  often  intervene  between  the  letters,  the  whole  hav- 
ing the  appearance  of  poetic  continuity.  Whatever  he 
experiences  assumes  the  form  of  a  communication  to 
Frau  von  Stein. 

In  the  beginning  there  reigns  in  his  heart,  and  perhaps 
in  hers  also,  an  indistinct  feeling  that  they  might  possibly 
be  united.  This  was  in  the  first  years,  when  he  was 
supremely  happy.  A  vague  expectation  lifts  him  above 
the  deprivations  of  the  moment.  But  by  degrees  the 
impossibility  dawns  upon  him.  It  then  requires  some 
years  for  Goethe  to  bring  the  suspicion  that  he  must  re- 
sign her  forever  to  a  ce'rtainty ;  and  only  when  these 
struggles  are  over,  and  the  matter  firmly  decided  between 
them,  does  their  intimacy  assume  a  natural  form,  which 
from  its  very  simplicity  is  no  longer  comprehensible  to 
those  who  do  not  know  how  to  interpret  such  things. 
And  here  I  can  fall  back  on  my  own  experience.  I  have 
watched  such  attachments  run  on  amid  severe  trials  for 
long  years,  and  seen  them  dissolve  at  last  without  leav- 
ing any  trace  of  unpleasant  remembrance. 

I  sought  to  describe  the  young  maidens  whom  Goethe 
loved.  It  was  no  difficult  task  :  they  stand  like  perfect 
pictures  before  our  eyes.  Goethe  has,  with  the  touch  of 
an  artist,  given  us  such  accurate  impressions  that  we 
may  distinguish  in  his  portraits  the  coup-de-brosse  of 

17 


258  LIFE    AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

each.  We  see  in  Frederika  and  the  parsonage  a  hasty 
sketch  in  water-colors  ;  Lotte  is  like  a  soft  pastel  picture  ; 
while  Lilli  is  like  a  work  of  Watteau's,  bold  and  spirited. 
These  figures  look  steadily  at  us,  as  it  were,  from  their 
golden  rococo  frames  ;  but  Frau  von  Stein  stands  in 
strong  contrast  to  all  of  them.  No  picture  of  her  do 
we  find  on  which  fancy  dwells.  Intellect  is  chiefly  con- 
spicuous here.  While  in  Strasburg,  and  shortly  before 
any  thought  of  Weimar  had  occurred  to  Goethe,  some 
one  gave  him  for  Lavater's  work  a  silhouette  of  Frau  von 
Stein.  This  mere  outline  made  a  great  impression  upon 
him,  and,  without  knowing  anything  more  of  her  than 
the  one  who  brought  the  silhouette  could  tell  him,  lie 
proceeded  to  interpret  the  lines  of  the  face,  and  brought 
out  a  whole  list  of  superior  qualities,  all  tending  to  prove 
rare  mental  development.  When  he  finally  met  her,  what 
did  he  find  ?  A  mother,  among  her  children  ;  a  beauti- 
ful woman,  but  with  none  of  the  bloom  of  maidenhood  ; 
no  timid,  wistful  being,  whose  experience  is  all  before  her, 
but  a  woman  acquainted  with  life. 

Goethe  was  enchanted  with  the  vivacity  with  which  she 
seized  things  and  held  them  fast ;  with  her  natural  self- 
possession  and  distinguished  appearance.  From  the  first 
days  in  Weimar,  Frau  von  Stein  became  his  intimate 
friend.  Goethe  came  laden  with  what  seemed  to  him  an 
intolerable  burden  of  recollections.  He  met  a  mild,  re- 
signed, judicious  woman,  to  whom  he  felt  that  his  whole 
life  was  known.  He  becomes  calm  and  quiet  in  her  pres- 
ence :  her  voice  soothes  the  agitation  of  his  heart.  He 
attaches  himself  to  her  and  site  permits  it,  as  the  most 
natural  thing  in  the  world.  And  he  tells  her  immediately 
what  she  is  to  him,  and  finds  an  expression  for  this  in  a 
poem  which  contains  the  following  line  :  — 

"Oh,  thou  wast  in  times  outlived  ray  sister  or  my  wife." 


VERSES    TO    FRAU   VON    STEIN.  259 

These  verses  are  among  the  first  which  he  wrote  to  her. 
He  assumes  that  already,  in  ages  past,  he  had  enjoyed  a 
life  with  her.  Then  they  were  not  separated  as  now : 
their  life  to-day  is  only  a  memory  of  those  days. 

"  Thou  didst  know  each  motive  of  my  being, 
Feel  each  subtle  nerve  ring  out  reply  ; 
Glance  of  thine  could  read  without  the  seeing 
Deeps  almost  unknown  to  human  eye. 

"  By  thy  quiet  touch  the  flood  was  breasted 
Of  the  wild  blood  rushing  through  my  veins  ; 
In  thine  angel  arms  my  soul  was  rested 
Safe  from  storm  and  flood  and  winter's  rains. 

"  Magic-like  above  the  waves  of  sadness 
Thou  didst  hold  him  with  thy  laughter  sweet: 
Can  aught  blessed  equal  the  fond  gladness 
When  he  flung  him  grateful  at  thy  feet  ? 

"  Felt  his  heart  upon  thy  bosom  swelling, 
Felt  the  heaven's  light  shining  from  thy  face, 
Every  restless  sense  within  him  quelling, 
Taming  the  hot  desire  in  their  race! 

"  And  of  all  this  only  one  remembrance 
Floats  and  hovers  round  the  uncertain  heart —  "  1 


At  first  lie  alone  seems  to  grieve  for  the  loss  of  what 
was  perhaps  his  in  times  past ;  but  now  he  discovers  that 
Frau  von  Stein  has  never  been  happy.  Her  existence 
hitherto  has  been  aimless,  insipid,  accidental.  She  had 
been  married  young,  in  a  kind  of  business-like  fashion. 
She  is  passionate  without  ever  having  come  in  contact 
with  passion.  She  is  in  need  of  consolation  quite  as 
much  as  Goethe,  and  she  also  feels  what  might  have 
been.  Not  alone  is  her  presence  indispensable  to  him, 

*  Translated  by  A.  F.  (Boston). 


260  LIFE   AKD   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

but  his  to  her.  Yet  so  firmly  is  her  position  established 
among  her  children  and  at  the  side  of  her  husband,  that 
neither  she  nor  Goethe  could  ever  think  of  setting  these 
circumstances  at  defiance. 

Still,  ideas  forbidden  will  necessarily  intrude  upon  both. 
An  uncertainty  takes  possession  of  them  which  is  at 
times  almost  unbearable.  At  last  relief  comes  in  a  free 
mutual  outpouring  of  their  hearts.  The  moment  is 
almost  discernible  when  Goethe  compels  himself  to  see 
in  Frau  von  Stein  forever  only  a  sister.  Now  he  becomes 
more  quiet,  and  the  intercourse  begins  which  indeed,  as 
was  to  be  foreseen,  could  only  continue  in  this  form  for 
a  limited  time  ;  but  these  years  were  enchanting  to  both 
of  them,  and  we  live  them  over  again  with  them.  The 
little  incidents  in  the  course  of  this  episode  form  a  series 
of  most  captivating  pictures  which  nestle  in  our  imagina- 
tion. Not  merely  do  we  hear  of  what  concerns  their 
inward  life,  but  owing  to  Goethe's  passion  for  describing 
what  he  saw  and  experienced  we  are  taken  at  once  into 
the  midst  of  their  mutual  affairs,  and  comprehend  men 
and  things  as  if  we  had  witnessed  all  with  them.  We 
know  Goethe's  little  garden-house  in-  the  park  as  well  as 
our  own  home,  as  if  we  had  ourselves  spent  a  part  of  our 
youth  there,  and  had  seen  it  by  day  and  by  night,  in  sun- 
shine and  moonlight,  and  knew  from  our  own  experience 
how  rain  and  wind,  heat  and  cold,  alternated  there ;  how 
the  grapevines,  for  which  Goethe  had  the  grafts  sent  from 
his  own  home,  entwined  their  tendrils  about  the  windows, 
and  the  tender  shoots  of  the  young  trees  he  had  planted 
in  the  garden  gradually  developed  into  great  boughs. 
We  see  Goethe  going  in  and  out,  sleeping  at  night  envel- 
oped in  his  cloak  in  the  open  air,  and  waking  at  intervals 
to  watch  the  stars  above  him.  Even  to-day  the  small 
house  in  the  garden  stands  an  instant  reminder  of  those 


LOVE   BEAUTIFIES    HIS   WEIMAR  DAYS.        261 

first  Weimar  days.  That  house,  too,  is  still  unchanged 
(if  I  was  rightly  informed  by  those  who  showed  it  me) 
in  which  Frau  von  Stein  herself  dwelt.  The  great  orange- 
trees  still  stand  in  tubs  during  the  summer-time  under 
the  windows,  although  somewhat  faded  and  hoary.  Only 
the  Ilm,  which  flows  through  the  park  close  by,  lias  the 
youthful  freshness  of  those  days.  This  rivulet,  which 
Goethe  has  immortalized,  winds  among  the  now  tall  trees 
which  he  helped  the  Duke  to  plant  a  hundred  years  ago. 
All  these  mighty  avenues  of  trees  were  at  that  time 
young  stock,  for  which  he  and  the  Duke  chose  the  places, 
and  all  these  walks  were  laid  out  by  their  hands. 

But  Goethe  has  not  only  made  the  city  and  the  park  a 
memorial,  but  all  Thuringia  is  forever  glorified  through 
his  letters  to  Frau  von  Stein.  As  Frederika  stands  in 
the  midst  of  Alsace,  and  Lotte  of  the  Wetterau,  so  Frau 
von  Stein  stands  before  our  eyes  in  the  midst  of  Thu- 
ringia. All  the  beautiful  points  in  this  region  are  idealized 
in  our  minds  through  Goethe's  description  of  them  to 
Frau  von  Stein.  From  what  spot  do  we  not  find  notes 
and  letters  addressed  to  her !  —  and  it  is  always  exactly 
stated  where  he  is.  In  these  letters  the  Thuringian  for- 
est and  the  whole  country  —  which  in  its  modest  beauty, 
together  with  Hesse,  is  the  finest  type  of  a  true  German 
landscape  —  lie  before  our  view.  In  the  luxuriance  of 
summer,  in  autumn,  in  winter,  and  in  the  freshness  of 
spring  Goethe  describes  his  new  home.  With  confidence 
we  expect  to  hear  of  the  watching  and  waiting  for  the 
hour  when  Nature  awakes  from  her  wintry  sleep,  and 
each  spring  this  is  followed  up  as  if  it  had  never  been 
spring  before.  On  foot  and  alone,  rambling  through  the 
woods  on  horseback  or  in  a  carriage  with  the  Duke,  at 
the  chase,  upon  journeys  of  inspection,  or  on  visits  to 
the  little  courts  and  country  seats,  —  from  all  and  every- 


262  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

where  Goethe,  in  the  midst  of  the  wealth  surrounding 
him,  turns  his  glance  toward  his  beloved  friend.  She 
constantly  draws  him  back  to  Weimar.  The  days  seem 
lost  to  him  in  which  he  is  away  from  her.  She  and  her 
family  are  his  first  care.  As  he  thought  of  Lotte  in  the 
"  Deutsches  Haus "  in  the  circle  of  her  dear  ones,  so 
he  cannot  think  of  Frau  von  Stein  except  as  mother  and 
housewife.  Sometimes  he  addresses  her  in  his  letters  by 
the  honorable  title  of  "  Hausfrau."  We  grow  familiar 
with  all  these  relations.  We  sympathize  with  the  vicissi- 
tudes of  these  people,  and  all  their  little  incidents  become 
events.  It  is  impossible  here  even  to  indicate  all  these 
things,  or  to  speak  of  Belvedere,  Wilhelmsthal,  the  Wart- 
burg,  Kochberg,  the  country-seat  of  Frau  von  Stein,  and 
other  valleys,  mountains,  and  castles. 

And  not  these  alone;  the  intercourse  with  Frau  von 
Stein  shows  us  what  Goethe  worked  upon, — what  he  read, 
wrote,  drew,  and  read  aloud.  He  dictates  to  Frau  von 
Stein;  he  carries  her  all  his  poems, piece  by  piece, as  they 
arise.  Together  they  make  themselves  acquainted  with 
all  the  new  literary  productions.  He  stores  up,  like  a 
beaver,  day  by  day  an  infinite  amount  of  intellectual  mat- 
ter for  her.  Life  offered  at  that  time  nothing  else.  Men 
were  not  persecuted  with  daily  papers,  and  even  events  hap- 
pening quite  in  the  neighborhood  were  only  drop  by  drop 
and  slowly  circulated.  We  may  take  Goethe's  letters  to 
Frau  von  Stein  as  proof  of  how  gently  the  clouds  moved 
in  the  political  heavens  at  that  time.  An  atmosphere 
of  indescribable  and  beneficent  peace  pervades  this  book. 
We  see  how  the  stormless  character  of  these  years  is  cal- 
culated to  foster  and  mature  an  intellectual  culture  which 
in  the  gale  of  to-day  has  long  since  become  impossible. 

Sparingly  and  slowly  the  new  appears  and  is  har- 
moniously blended  with  what  has  been  already  gained. 


LITERARY   RESULT    OF    THE    TEN   YEARS.      263 

Noiselessly  one  day  follows  another.  In  quiet  contempla- 
tion of  past  times  and  provision  for  the  future,  life,  step 
by  step,  is  measured  with  a  conscientiousness  which  is 
not  allowed  to-day. 

On  the  9th  of  April,  1781,  Goethe  writes  to  Lavater : 
"  The  coming  weeks  of  spring  are  ever  to  me  blissful ; 
every  morning  I  am  greeted  by  a  new  bud  or  flower. 
The  still,  pure,  ever-recurring,  sorrowless  growth  of 
plants  often  consoles  me  for  the  miseries  of  men  and 
their  moral  and  physical  evils."  One  would  believe  him- 
self listening  to  a  philosophic  gardener  who  all  his  life 
had  found  his  sole  companions  among  his  flowers. 

To  how  few  is  granted  to-day  this  restful  intercourse 
with  Nature,  unless  they  are  people  upon  whom  life  im- 
poses no  other  tasks !  Goethe  was  capable  at  every  turn 
of  giving  his  whole  nature  to  whatever  moved  him. 

And  now,  in  conclusion :  in  this  atmosphere  and  with 
the  sympathy  of  Frau  von  Stein  we  see  the  poems  grow 
slowly  which  are  the  gain  of  these  Ten  Years,  and  which 
are  the  grandest  poetical  works  German  literature  pos- 
sesses. Of  these  the  most  distinguished  are  "  Iphigenia," 
"  Tasso,"  "  Egmont,"  and  "  Wilhelm  Meister." 

I  will  speak  of  them  when  I  lecture  on  Italy,  where 
Goethe  gave  to  them  a  definite  form. 


264  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 


LECTURE  XIV. 

CARL  AUGUST  AND  GOETHE  IN  THE  TEN  YEARS. 

OETHE  and  Carl  August's  friendship  was  indissolu- 
bly  cemented  by  the  fact  that  Goethe  was  essential 
to  the  Duke. 

Between  the  two  men  there  was  difference  in  years,  in 
social  position,  and  in  gifts  of  mind.  Both  were  aware 
that  Goethe  was  the  stronger  and  the  leading  power. 
The  Duke  never  attempted  to  alter  this  relation.  All 
Goethe's  letters  to  the  Duke,  even  while  he  adhered 
most  strictly  to  the  forms  prescribed  by  court  etiquette, 
are  written  as  if  looking  down  from  a  superior  position ; 
and  all  the  letters  of  the  Duke,  though  he  sometimes  tries 
to  have  the  reverse  appear,  are  written  from  below  to  one 
above  him.  On  the  other  hand,  from  the  first  meeting  it 
was  clearly  understood  that  the  Duke  had  a  right  as 
prince  to  claim  a  certain  homage ;  and  Goethe  never 
failed  to  render  this.  The  esprit  de  suite,  which  Richelieu 
missed  in  the  great  Corneille,  has  often  been  misinter- 
preted in  Goethe.  The  address  with  which  he  stepped 
into  the  second  rank  beside  his  "most  gracious  sovereign" 
has  been  thought  to  signify  that  he  really  yielded  in  ab- 
ject submission  to  the  spell  of  princely  grandeur.  But 
Goethe  and  the  Duke  knew  full  well  it  was  only  a  form,  and 
also  why  this  form  must  be  observed.  Both  felt  that  they 
gave  to  one  another  what  nobody  else  could  give  to  either 
of  them,  —  the  Duke,  that  he  would  never  have  a  truer, 


HIS    FRIENDSHIP   WITH    GAEL   AUGUST.        265 

more  unprejudiced  counsellor ;  and  Goethe,  that  under 
no  other  circumstances  could  he  find  such  satisfactory 
use  for  his  noblest  powers.  We  Germans  are  all  born 
"  Marquis  Posas."  The  German  is  never  satisfied  until  he 
has  found  the  place  in  which,  while  preserving  his  inde- 
pendence of  mind,  he  can  serve  those  whom  he  recognizes 
as  having  legitimate  claims  on  his  service.  Something  is 
always  wanting  to  us  until  we  have  secured  this.  Even 
Frederick  the  Great  could  not  live  without  it,  but  rep- 
resented himself  as  the  first  servant  of  his  people,  and 
endured  from  Voltaire  the  severest  reproofs,  simply  be- 
cause Voltaire  was  the  only  man  whose  mental  power  he 
acknowledged  as  greater  than  his  own,  and  with  whom 
it  was  indispensable  to  him  to  be  in  connection.  With 
Goethe  and  the  Duke  the  subordination  was  mutual,  and 
herein  lay  the  indissolubleness  of  their  friendship. 

In  this  sense  Goethe's  relation  to  the  Duke  was  one  of 
the  purest  and  most  profitable.  Never  did  an  ignoble 
suspicion  force  itself  between  them.  Never  was  a  serious 
attempt  made  to  break  up  their  intercourse.  Even  on 
the  occasion  late  in  life  of  the  famous  quarrel  about  the 
dog  on  the  stage  (where,  however,  the  question  was  not 
merely  about  the  dog),  when  Goethe  resigned  his  office 
and  went  to  Jena,  the  correspondence  between  them  was 
not  given  up,  and  the  appearance  steadily  maintained  that 
nothing  had  happened  ;  whereupon,  of  course,  the  breach 
was  soon  repaired.  Until  their  latest  breath  the  friendship 
of  these  men  continued,  and  I  know  not  where  one  could 
have  placed  Goethe's  coffin  but  by  the  side  of  the  Duke's. 

We  have  before  us  "  The  Correspondence  of  the  Grand 
Duke  Carl  August  of  Sachsen-Weimar-Eisenach  with 
Goethe,  from  the  year  1775  to  1828,"  in  two  volumes. 
We  must  not  expect  to  find  here  a  regular  correspondence ; 
there  are  only  the  occasional  notes  and  letters  of  many 


2C6  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

years,  which  from  their  quantity  assume  something  like  an 
appearance  of  connection.  It  is  said,  however,  that  there 
are  many  gaps.  Since  Goethe  and  the  Duke  were  most 
of  the  time  together,  of  course  the  matters  of  chief  im- 
portance were  not  discussed  by  letter.  About  Goethe  in 
his  official  capacity  Scholl  has  written  excellently  well. 
An  infinite  amount  of  documents  is  before  us !  In 
order  to  appreciate  the  extent  of  his  influence  a  thorough 
revision  of  these  papers  would  be  necessary,  which  nobody 
to-day  feels  called  upon  to  make,  even  if  capable  of  so 
doing.  In  general,  it  may  be  stated  that  from  1776  to 
1828  nothing  of  importance  happened  in  Weimar  without 
Goethe's  previous  knowledge  or  co-operation.  In  detail, 
so  far  as  we  have  followed  his  part  in  these  affairs,  it 
must  be  admitted  that  Goethe  never  treated  any  busi- 
ness matter  as  a  secondary  consideration  :  he  entered 
into  even  insignificant  concerns  with  the  most  minute 
care,  devoted  to  them  unwearying  attention,  and  labored 
for  the  welfare  of  the  country  in  all  directions.  There  is 
no  case  on  record  in  which,  after  Goethe's  advice  had 
been  followed,  things  turned  out  badly. 

Under  the  circumstances  danger  was  to  be  apprehended 
from  two  causes :  first,  because  this  kind  of  work  was 
not  specially  suited  to  Goethe's  nature  and  capacities,  and 
sooner  or  later,  therefore,  it  must  become  unendurable  to 
him;  and  second,  in  practical  questions  of  government 
and  finance,  and  in  matters  which  concerned  the  welfare 
of  the  country,  the  Duke  frequently  refused  to  follow 
Goethe's  better  judgment.  As  soon  as  Goethe  perceived 
that  his  labor  was  fruitless,  the  feeling  that  his  position 
was  unendurable  must  have  gained  the  upper  hand  ;  and 
this  was  the  course  things  took,  but  in  a  way  neither  to 
destroy  the  work  of  the  Ten  Years,  nor  to  make  the  re- 
lation established  on  the  new  basis  appear  anywise  in- 
ferior to  the  former  one. 


DIFFICULTY  OF  HIS  SERVICE  TO  THE  DUKE.   267 

In  these  Ten  Years  Goethe  had  guided  his  friend  in 
such  a  manner  that  the  lives  of  both  took  the  direction 
most  natural  to  them'.  He  gives  ample  scope  to  the 
youthful  inclinations  of  Carl  August,  but  never  loses  him 
out  of  his  sight,  and  is  constantly  at  his  side  as  his  good 
genius.  While  he  with  youthful  heart  shares  in  the  ex- 
uberant spirits  of  the  Duke,  he  does  not  forget  for  a  mo- 
ment what  he  owes  to  himself  and  to  him.  We  have 
from  year  to  year  assertions  in  letters  and  diaries  which 
manifest  the  almost  pedantic  manner  in  which  Goethe 
strove  to  fulfil  his  duty.  The  most  trying  points,  indeed, 
he  dared  not  confide  even  to  his  diary.  We  see  how  the 
hardness,  or  rather  obduracy,  of  the  Duke  and  his  dislike 
to  restraint  of  any  kind  sometimes  brought  Goethe  to 
the  verge  of  despair.  Moreover,  he  became  tired  of  for- 
ever mediating  between  Carl  August  and  the  Duchess, 
who  (to  use  an  exhaustive  phrase)  did  not  understand 
each  other ;  so  that  Goethe  was  made  the  confidant  on 
both  sides. 

Of  these  things  Goethe  might  not,  could  not,  speak  to 
any  one :  only  once  in  a  while  he  gives  vent  to  his  feel- 
ings to  Frau  von  Stein  and  a  few  other  trusted  friends. 
When  we  compare  the  passages  in  his  letters  in  reference 
to  these  things,  we  find  from  year  to  year  the  same  sighs 
and  ejaculations,  alternating  with  expressions  of  inward 
satisfaction,  as  an  indication  that  he  had  settled  this  or 
that  matter  with  the  Duke.  But  from  the  beginning  we 
see  shining  through  all  the  clouds  the  sincere  attachment 
which  always  characterized  their  friendship.  Goethe 
understood  clearly  his  relation  to  the  Duke.  He  reviews 
and  superintends  the  condition  of  things  in  the  most  care- 
ful way,  like  a  merchant  who  always  has  the  state  of  his 
property  in  clear  figures  in  his  books.  Once,  when  he 
felt  that  the  friendship  needed  a  thorough  freshening  up, 


268  LIFE    AXD    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

lie  tempted  the  Duke  to  go  on  a  journey  into  Switzerland. 
This  was  in  the  winter  of  1779  and  1780,  and  attended 
with  most  beneficial  results.  Goethe  wished  for  a  space 
to  be  alone  with  Carl  August,  separated  from  the  Court, 
surrounded  by  the  grandest  and  most  elevated  phenom- 
ena of  Nature,  in  the  enjoyment  of  which  high  and  low 
meet  as  equals.  In  presence  of  simple  realities  the  pe- 
culiarities of  the  Duke  came  out  clearly.  A  conscious- 
ness of  superfluous  strength  tempts  him  constantly  to  do 
too  much  ;  so  that  when  after  having  with  fatigue  and  dif-* 
ficulty  gained  the  top  of  a  mountain,  without  aim  or  ne- 
cessity and  at  the  risk  of  greater  danger,  he  still  desires 
a  farther  adventure.  Goethe  calls  it  the  Duke's  fashion 
"  to  lard  the  fat."  "  This  put  me  so  much  out  of  humor 
several  times,"  he  writes,  "  that  I  dreamt  last  night  I  had 
a  quarrel  with  him  and  left  him,  and  that  I  cheated  the 
people  he  sent  after  me  in  all  sorts  of  ways.  But  when  I 
see  how  to  each  the  thorn  in  the  flesh  is  given  which  he 
has  to  bear,  it  all  passes  away  again.  He  has  truly  good 
powers  of  observation,  sympathy,  and  curiosity,  and  often 
puts  me  to  the  blush  by  his  perseverance  and  eagerness  to 
see  and  learn  something  where  I  myself  am  often  absent- 
minded  or  indifferent." 

Let  us  add  to  this  judgment  what  Goethe  much  later 
said  to  Eckermann,  after  he,  the  older  man,  had  lost  his 
friend  by  death :  "  He  was  interested  in  everything  that 
was  in  any  way  important,  in  whatever  department  it 
might  be  ;  he  was  always  progressive  and  sought  to  intro- 
duce into  his  own  country  every  new  and -good  invention 
or  institution  of  the  time.  If  anything  proved  unsuccess- 
ful, nothing  more  was  said  of  it.  I  often  considered  how 
I  would  excuse  this  or  that  failure  to  him ;  but  he  ignored 
every  miscarriage  in  the  gayest  way,  and  went  on  freshly 
to  something  new.  This  was  the  peculiar  greatness  in 


SKETCH   OF   THE   DUKE'S    CHARACTER.         269 

his   nature,  —  indeed   born   in   him;   not  the   result   of 
education." 

Goethe  himself  possessed  the  same  power  of  dropping 
defects  out  of  sight,  —  in  this  respect  being  a  genuine 
scholar  of  Spinoza, —  considering  them  mere  negations 
and  not  as  anything  that  ever  existed.  In  this  way  he 
treated  the  faults  of  the  Duke,  and  clung  only  to  the  ster- 
ling qualities  he  found  in  him.  The  good  effects  of  the 
Swiss  journey  were  visible  in  better  order  and  more  con- 
sistency, besides  other  things  which  he  prized  equally : 
soon  enough,  however,  all  fell  back  into  the  old  ruts. 
Goethe  perceives  this  with  pain,  but  adheres  to  his  duties 
nevertheless  with  unshaken  fidelity.  Among  his  shorter 
poems,  one  contains  such  a  comprehensive  and  beautiful 
sketch  of  the  Duke's  character  that  I  must  give  it  space 
here.  It  describes  a  night  they  passed  in  the  chase  upon 
the  mountains.  They  camp  out  in  the  open  air.  Goethe, 
sitting  at  the  fire,  keeps  watch  at  the  side  of  the  sleeping 
Duke,  when  a  kind  of  vision  of  his  whole  situation  rises 
before  him.  He  gives  us  the  picture  of  himself,  the 
party,  and  Carl  August, — each  figure  plainly  recognizable, 
and  yet  the  whole  wrapt  in  that  weird,  fantastic  light 
through  which,  in  his  state  of  half-dreaming,  half-waking, 
he  saw  men  and  the  world  about  him  that  night :  — 

"  Near  the  rude  hut  the  fire  burns  low, 
I  watch  the  men  glide  to  and  fro, 
Each  having  something  still  to  seek  : 
They  whisper  low  and  would  not  break 
His  sleep,  lulled  by  the  distant  flow 
Of  waterfall.     Just  here  the  valley  closes, 
And  while  the  royal  youth  reposes, 
The  chasm  tempts  me  near  its  verge  to  stray, 
And  from  the  group  unseen  I  steal  away."  J 

1 1  have  hastily  translated  the  opening  scene  :  the  reader  may  prefer 
to  do  the  remainder  for  himself. 


270  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

Now  Goethe  first  perceives  himself  in  the  dream :  — 

"  Sei  mir  gegriisst,  der  hier  in  spater  Xacht 
Gedankenvoll  an  dieser  Schwelle  wacht! 
Was  sitzest  du  entfernt  von  jenen  Freuden? 
Du  scheinst  mir  auf  was  Wichtiges  bedacht. 
Was  ist's,  dass  du  in  Sinnen  dich  verlierest, 
Und  nicht  einmal  dein  kleines  Feuer  schlirest? 

"  O  frage  nicht!     Denn  ich  bin  nicht  bereit, 
Des  Fremden  Neugier  leicht  zu  stillen  ; 
Sogar  verbitt'  ich  deinen  guten  Willen  ; 
Hier  ist  zu  schweigeu  und  zu  leiden  Zeit. 
Ich  bin  dir  nicht  im  Stande  selbst  zu  sagen, 
Woher  ich  sei,  wer  mich  hierher  gesandt; 
Von  fremden  Zonen  bin  ich  her  verschlagen 
Und  durch  die  Freundschaft  f estgebannt. " 

In  retrospect  he  continues  to  himself  :  — 

"  Wer  kennt  sich  selbst?     Wer  weiss,  was  er  vermag? 
Hat  nie  der  Muthige  Verwegnes  unternommen? 
Und  was  du  thust,  sagt  erst  der  andre  Tag: 
War  es  zum  Schaden  oder  Frommen? 
Liess  nicht  Prometheus  selbst  die  reine  Himmelsgluth 
Auf  f  rischen  Thon  vergbtternd  niederfliessen  ? 
Und  konnt  er  mehr  als  irdisch  Blut 
Durch  die  belebten  Adern  giessen? 
Ich  brachte  reines  Feuer  vom  Altar, 
Was  ich  entziindet,  ist  nicht  reine  Flamme, 
Der  Sturm  vermehrt  die  Gluth  und  die  Gefahr, 
Ich  schwanke  nicht,  indem  ich  mich  verdamme. 

"  Und  wenn  ich  unklug  Muth  und  Freiheit  sang 
Und  Redlichkeit  und  Freiheit  sender  Zwang, 
Stolz  auf  sich  selbst  und  herzliches  Behagen, 
Erwarb  ich  mir  der  Menschen  schb'ne  Gunst; 
Doch  ach,  ein  Gott  versagte  mir  die  Kunst,  . 

Die  arme  Kunst,  mich  kiinstlich  zu  betragen. 
Nun  sitz  ich  hier,  zugleich  gehoben  und  gedriickt, 
Unschuldig  und  gestraft,  unschuldig  und  begliickt-" 


THE    DUKE'S    KEFRACTORY    NATURE.  271 

Now   he  apostrophizes   himself,  as  if   his  monologue 
could  be  overheard  :  — 

"  Doch  rede  sacht!  denn  untsr  diesem  Dach 
Ruht  all  mein  Wohl  imd  all  mein  Ungeraach: 
Ein  edles  Herz,  vom  Wege  der  Natur 
Durch  enges  Schicksal  abgeleitet, 
Das,  ahnungsvoll,  nun  auf  der  rechten  Spur, 
Bald  mit  sich  selbst  und  bald  mit  Zauberschatten  streitet; 
Und  was  ihm  das  Geschick  durch  die  Geburt  geschenkt, 
Mit  Miih'  und  Schweiss  erst  zu  erringen  denkt. 
Kein  liebevolles  Wort  kann  seinen  Geist  enthiillen 
Und  kein  Gesang  die  hohea  Wogen  stillen." 

The  headstrong,  refractory  nature  of  the  Duke  :  — 

"  Wer  kann  der  Raupe,  die  am  Zweige  kriecht, 
Von  ihrem  kiinft'gen  Futter  sprechen? 
Und  wer  der  Puppe,  die  am  Boden  liegt, 
Die  zarte  Schale  helfen  durchzubrechen? 
Es  kommt  die  Zeit,  sie  drangt  sich  selber  los 
Und  eilt  auf  Fittigen  der  Rose  in  den  Schoos. 

"  Gewiss,  ihm  geben  auch  die  Jahre 
Die  rechte  Richtung  seiner  Kraft. 
Noch  ist  bei  tiefer  Neigung  fiir  das  Wahre 
Ihm  Irrthum  eine  Ljeidenschaft. 
Der  Vorwitz  lockt  ihn  in  die  Weite, 
Kein  Fels  ist  ihm  zu  schroff ,  kein  Steg  zu  schmal, 
Der  Unfall  lauert  an  der  Seite 
Und  stiirzt  ihn  in  den  Arm  der  Qual. 
Dann  treibt  die  schmerzlich  iiberspannte  Regung 
Gewaltsam  ihn  bald  da,  bald  dort  hinaus, 
Und  von  unmuthiger  Bewegung 
Ruht  er  unmuthig  wieder  aus. 

"  Und  duster  wild  an  heitern  Tagen, 
Unbandig,  ohne  froh  zu  sein, 

Schlaft  er,  an  Leib  und  Seel  verwundet  und  zerschlagen, 
Auf  einem  harten  Lager  ein: 
Indessen  ich  hier  still  und  athmend  kaum 


272  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

Die  Augen  zu  den  freien  Sternen  kehre, 
Und  halb  erwacht  und  halb  im  schweren  Traum, 
Mich  kaum  des  schweren  Traums  erwehre. 
Verschwinde  Traum  ! ' ' 

"Wonderful  effect !  Suddenly  all  becomes  indeed  a 
dream.  He  now  speaks  calmly  to  the  Duke,  who  awakes, 
little  suspecting  what  nightly  visions  Goethe  has  seen. 
All  is  bathed  in  sunshine.  He  gives  to  him  cheerful 
advice,  best  hopes  for  the  future,  and  closes  with  con- 
gratulations :  — 

—  "Nein  !  streue  klug  wie  reich,  mit  mannlich  stater  Hand, 

Den  Segen  aus  auf  ein  geackert  Land; 

Dann  lass  es  ruh'n  :  die  Ernte  wird  erscheinen 

Und  Dich  beglucken  und  die  Deinen." 

And  this  was  written  after  Goethe  had  persevered  in 
Weimar  seven  years,  often  enough  despairing  of  the 
Duke,  but  ever  captivated  afresh  by  the  magnanimity  of 
his  nature.  These  verses  breathe  a  love  and  devotion 
which  Carl  August  appreciated  better  than  any  one,  and 
which,  as  I  said,  was  the  real  tie  that  held  Goethe  steadily 
in  Weimar  and  at  the  side  of  the  Duke. 

The  times  when  Goethe  had  completely  identified  him- 
self with  all  the  Weimar  circumstances,  such  as  we  have 
in  mind  and  of  which  we  involuntarily  think  when  Goe- 
the and  Weimar  are  talked  of,  are  however  those  of  his 
old  age.  In  the  first  ten  years  things  were  very  different. 
The  opposition  Fritsch  showed  to  him  was  not  limited  to 
one  instance.  It  was  necessary  that  Goethe  should  be 
raised  to  the  position  of  a  noble.  In  this  connection  we 
must  call  to  mind  how  the  matter  was  looked  upon  in 
Germany  previous  to  1780.  Goethe  says  of  the  distinc- 
tion between  nobles  and  commoners  :  "  In  Germany,  only 
the  nobleman  is  able  to  obtain  a  general,  and  if  I  may 
say  personal,  education.  A  commoner  may  render  ser- 


HIS    ROBUST   AND    HANDSOME    PHYSIQUE.      273 

vice  to  his  country,  may  acquire  the  necessary  amount 
of  intellectual  culture ;  but  he  will  never  have  any  per- 
sonal influence  to  speak  of,  do  what  he  will."  This  was 
written  in  1782.  No  reason  existed  for  withholding  from 
Goethe  the  privileges  of  nobility,  which  would  make  his 
position  in  Weimar  easier  to  him,  and  which  could  be 
given  him  without  trouble.  About  this  Goethe  said  very 
haughtily  that  it  had  not  made  the  least  impression  on 
him  ;  for,  as  a  Frankfort  patrician's  son,  he  had  always 
considered  himself  as  belonging  to  the  nobility.  In  1782 
he  received  his  diploma  from  Vienna.  After  having  been 
made  Privy  Councillor  in  1779,  he  was  now  in  1782 
chosen  President  of  the  Chamber.  We  must  not  here 
think  of  Goethe  as  the  modest,  shrinking  poet  who  does 
not  quite  know  his  place,  but  rather  as  the  rigorous  offi- 
cial well  conscious  of  his  high  employment,  and  who,  if  it 
were  necessary,  could  show  his  rough  side  as  well  as  the 
Duke. 

Goethe  was  a  strong,  broad-shouldered  man,  to  whom 
heat  and  cold  made  little  difference,  who  could  ride  the 
day  long  in  the  saddle  and  spend  all  night  in  the  woods 
or  at  a  "  kneip,"  without  its  having  any  particular  effect 
upon  him.  At  sleighing  parties,  balls,  the  chase,  or  at 
fires,  he  was  one  of  those  who  held  out  longest.  He 
took  the  foremost  place  whenever  he  thought  it  was  his 
right.  In  masked  processions  he  was  seen  on  horseback, 
in  magnificent  old  German  costume ;  and  after  he  was 
more  than  sixty  years  old  he  appeared  as  a  Knight  Tem- 
plar at  a  Fancy  Ball,  and  astonished  everybody  by  his 
commanding  beauty.  He  rode  out  bravely  to  the  fray  at 
Valmy,  where  the  balls  at  the  renowned  cannonade  fell 
thick  about  him,  watched  the  symptoms  of  the  "  white 
feather"  steal  over  him,  and  afterwards  described  all  mi- 
nutely. Such  a  physique  was  necessary  in  order  to  master 

18 


274  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

the  iron  will  of  the  Duke,  and  to  hold  his  place  close 
beside  him.  Goethe  had  the  inexhaustible  vitality  neces- 
sary for  his  office. 

But  now  that  we  have  studied  Goethe  and  Weimar, 
Goethe  and  Frau  von  Stein,  Goethe  and  the  Duke,  what 
of  Goethe  in  himself  alone  ? 

"  Wilhelm  Meister  "  has  already  been  mentioned.  In 
this  romance  Goethe  has  written  out  the  experiences,  of 
his  first  Weimar  life.  Apparently  it  is  the  history  of  a 
rich  merchant's  son,  who,  born  with  the  desire  for  that 
all-inclusive  personal  culture  which  Goethe  looked  upon 
as  the  privilege  of  the  nobles  alone,  ventures  into  aristo- 
cratic circles,  is  petted  and  appreciated  by  them,  so  far  as 
he  gives  them  the  benefit  of  his  literary  and  dramatic 
genius,  but  is  by  no  means  received  as  their  equal.  Goe- 
the was  one  of  the  most  zealous  members  of  the  Duke's 
amateur  theatre.  He  appeared  as  Alceste  in  his  "  Mit- 
schuldigen,"  as  Belcour  in  the  "  West  Indian,"  and  in 
many  other  characters.  It  is  known  that  on  such  occa- 
sions, for  the  most  part,  the  rehearsals  are  considered 
more  interesting  than  the  actual  performance.  Every 
one  who  has  once  had  the  experience  finds  that  noth- 
ing brings  people  together  so  agreeably  and  in  such 
familiar  contact  as  theatrical  rehearsals  by  amateurs. 
All  is  permitted,  and  the  maddest  freaks  seem  natural 
and  warranted  by  the  occasion.  These  complications  fur- 
nished the  material  for  his  romance.  Wilhelm  Meister 
rushes  on  from  one  episode  to  another  until  he  reaches 
his  aim,  and  is  really  allowed  to  enter  aristocratic  circles. 
This  is  Goethe's  history  ;  and  through  a  transparent  veil 
we  see  his  own  experience  turned  to  account.  Hence 
the  diary  form  of  the  romance,  and  the  slow  stages  of  its 
growth.  In  Frankfort  he  wrote  a  short  story  which 
formed  the  beginning ;  and  the  fiction  grew  steadily 


HE   BRINGS    HERDER   TO   WEIMAR.  275 

through  almost  twenty  years,  until  it  became  the  compre- 
hensive work  we  now  have. 

In  later  confessions  about  this  romance,  Goethe  gives 
hints  as  to  what  his  situation  was  in  the  beginning  at 
Weimar.  The  "  Meister,"  he  says  to  Chancellor  Miiller, 
"  betrays  the  horrible  loneliness  in  which  I  found  myself 
with  my  aspirations  constantly  directed  toward  the  uni- 
versal." Here  we  have  the  point  at  which  Goethe  felt 
himself  destitute  and  estranged  even  from  Frau  von  Stein 
and  the  Duke. 

Truly  Weimar  swarmed  with  men  whose  mental  activ- 
ity was  not  to  be  denied.  Each  man  was  at  that  time 
sitting  beside  the  stream  of  new  ideas  with  his  line  out, 
hoping  to  bring  some  big  fish  to  land.  There  was  Kne- 
bel  for  instance,  who  up  to  his  later  years  seemed  like 
a  man  destined  to  strike  out  an  original  career  ;  but,  if 
we  read  what  he  has  printed,  we  find  he  is  also  one 
of  those  who  without  Goethe  would  have  been  mere 
shadows.  And  thus,  accurately  weighed,  do  they  all  col- 
lapse around  him,  and  cease  to  have  any  individual  sig- 
nificance :  therefore,  as  we  take  in  the  whole  scene,  we 
come  to  feel  the  bitter  truth  in  Goethe's  assertion.  And 
yet  his  good  fortune,  very  soon  after  his  arrival,  led  to 
Weimar  the  only  man  from  whom  he  could  learn,  —  the 
only  one  with  whom  in  these  years  a  helpful,  sympa- 
thetic friendship  of  like  to  like  bound  him.  This  was 
again  Herder.  Goethe's  first  effort  in  Weimar  was  to 
make  a  place  there  for  Herder,  who  with  his  wife  was 
moping  in  Biickeburg ;  and  he  did  not  rest  until  all  hin- 
drances were  removed  that  stood  in  the  way  of  it. 

Herder,  after  making  himself  one  of  the  most  re- 
nowned authors  in  Germany,  had  by  degrees  fallen  aside 
from  the  march  of  general  progress.  His  works  are 
the  fruit  of  great  theological  learning,  and  addressed  to 


276  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

a  very  limited  public.  At  first,  he  went  on  in  the  same 
way  in  Weimar.  Goethe  was  too  absorbed  in  his  own 
new  circumstances  to  seek  Herder,  and  it  was  only  grad- 
ually that  he  was  drawn  to  him.  In  the  measure  in 
which  the  feeling,  whose  depth  no  outsider  could  estimate, 
arose  in  them  both  of  a  common  need,  did  they  truly 
comprehend  each  other.  The  former  difference  in  age, 
experience,  and  knowledge  was  blotted  out.  Goethe  was 
more  quiet;  Herder  had  become  somewhat  softened, — 
the  transactions  with  regard  to  the  Gottingen  professor- 
ship, from  which  the  call  to  Weimar  saved  him,  having 
humbled  his  pride.  A  friendship  grew  up,  on  Goethe's 
side  assuming  the  tone  of  conciliating  patronage,  which 
Herder's  stormy,  unequal  temper  too  often  rendered 
necessary  ;  while  Herder,  as  Schiller  in  a  conversation 
later  with  him  asserted,  came  to  feel  for  Goethe  an 
idolatrous  veneration.  Herder  realized  that  in  Goethe's 
presence  he,  as  it  were,  returned  to  life.  The  result  of 
these  years  was  his  grand  work,  "  Ideas  of  the  Philoso- 
phy of  the  History  of  Mankind,"  —  perhaps  the  basis  of  our 
present  conception  of  history.  To  be  sure,  Montesquieu 
and  his  successors  had  struck  the  key-note,  but  never 
was  a  universal  history  written  of  such  compass,  drawn 
so  directly  from  the  common  nature  of  the  nations  con- 
cerned, and  from  such  an  elevated  point  of  view.  And 
in  the  progress  of  this  work  Goethe  was  the  confidant. 
From  all  we  know  of  his  intercourse  with  Herder  through 
these  years  we  see  that  Goethe  was  more  free  with  him 
than  with  any  one  else,  and  allowed  his  roaming  thoughts 
the  most  untrammelled  flight  in  all  directions.  Herder's 
wife,  not  yet  irritated  by  her  jealousy  of  Herder's  sup- 
posed rivals  in  Goethe's  affection,  made  for  him  at  this 
time  a  second  home,  and  next  to  Frau  von  Stein's.  In- 
deed, it  is  said  that  he  preferred  to  read  his  productions 


HIS    FRIENDS    AND    LOVERS    IN    WEIMAR.      277 

to  her.  At  any  rate.  Herder's  wife  and  Frau  von  Stein 
were  the  first  to  hear  the  poems  he  wrote  in  these  days. 
The  romance  he  read  to  them  chapter  by  chapter,  and 
his  plays  scene  by  scene. 

But  with  these  people  the  list  is  exhausted.  Wieland's 
opinion  soon  enough  ceased  to  be  especially  worthy  of 
consideration.  In  literary  matters  he  was  a  comfortable 
authority,  which  one  could  yield  to  or  not  as  they  chose  ; 
but,  on  the  whole,  he  had  his  own  person  too  much  in 
mind  to  care  much  about  others.  Frau  von  Stein,  the 
Duke,  Herder  and  his  wife,  and  perhaps  Knebel,  made 
the  extent  of  Goethe's  intercourse.  These  at  the  first  per- 
formance of  "  Iphigenia  "  he  calls  "  his  public."  I  would 
willingly  speak  here  of  Corona  Schroeter,  the  play-actress 
and  singer,  of  whom  it  is  asserted  that  she  stood  nearer 
to  Goethe  than  even  Frau  von  Stein  herself,  and  his 
lately  published  diaries  make  it  clear  that  he  divided  his 
time  in  a  considerable  measure  between  the  two  ;  yet  the 
records  of  Corona  Schroeter  are  so  fragmentary  and  con- 
tradictory, really  amounting  to  so  little,  that  as  yet  her 
position  relative  to  Goethe  cannot  be  clearly  defined.  .  I 
would  here  emphasize  the  following  remark,  that,  because 
we  know  so  much  of  Goethe's  life  from  letters  and  other 
sources,  we  must  not  imagine  we  know  all.  Goethe 
formed  many  connections  whose  nature  is  Tmknown  to 
us.  There  are  names  of  many  maidens  for  whom  he  had 
a  special  affection  ;  there  are  many  characters  in  his 
poems  which  are  plainly  drawn  from  life,  and  for  which 
the  originals  are  missing.  We  do  not  know,  in  the 
Frankfort  epoch,  who  Clarchen  was  in  "  Egmont,"  or 
who  Marianne  or  Mignon  or  Philina  was  in  "  Wilhelm 
Meister."  Goethe  says  "  the  first  Weimar  days  were 
perplexed  by  multifarious  love  affairs."  About  all  these 
we  know  so  little  that  we  cannot  even  guess  at  them.  It 


278  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

is  possible  that  Corona  Schroeter  suggested  Philina  rather 
than  Iphigenia ;  but  who  can  decide  the  matter,  and  what 
is  the  use  of  speculating  about  it  ? 

It  remains  for  us  to  speak  of  the  reasons  why  Goethe 
at  the  end  of  the  Ten  Years  suddenly  disappeared  from 
Germany,  came  to  light  again  in  Rome,  remained  there 
almost  two  years,  and  after  his  return  to  Weimar  estab- 
lished a  new  existence  for  himself  under  wholly  changed 
conditions. 

Goethe  had  entered  Weimar  as  minister  and  at  the 
same  time  educator  of  an  inexperienced  young  prince, 
whose  character  now,  however,  began  to  develop  more 
and  more  from  day  to  day.  In  the  degree  in  which 
Goethe  attained  the  aim  set  before  him  his  own  position 
became  the  more  precarious.  As  Prime  Minister,  sooner 
or  later  all  important  cases  fell  into  his  hands  ;  while  at 
the  same  time  the  increased  sagacity  and  active  partici- 
pation of  the  Duke  deprived  him  more  and  more  of  all 
independence.  Having  everything  in  his  hands,  he  was 
allowed  to  decide  upon  nothing.  Here  we  see  the  reason 
why,  even  within  the  Ten  Years,  Goethe  begged  for 
some  relief  from  his  duties.  Wherever  the  Duke  entered 
he  drew  back  ;  step  by  step  he  yielded  the  ground,  which 
thus  imperceptibly  changed  masters.  There  was  nothing 
in  this  which  could  cause  offence  ;  on  the  contrary,  he 
had  striven  to  bring  about  this  very  result.  The  Duke 
should  more  and  more  become  the  actual  regent ;  and 
that  he  succeeded  by  degrees  in  giving  the  reins  ^wholly 
into  his  hands  was  a  triumph  for  Goethe.  But  this 
change  must  not  be  affected  in  such  a  way  that  he  should 
lose  ground  in  Weimar,  for  Goethe  loved  it  as  his  second 
home.  The  proper  means  must  be  found  which  would 
enable  him  to  remain  without  being  the  costly  fifth 
wheel  in  the  coach.  At  last,  when  things  were  ripe,  and 


REASONS    FOR   THE   ITALIAN   JOURNEY.        279 

the  great  change  could  be  initiated,  it  was  so  happily 
managed  by  him  that  without  the  slightest  injury  to  his 
friendship  for  the  Duke  all  matters  were  newly  adjusted 
between  them.  There  is  not  a  doubt  in  my  mind  that 
when  Goethe  departed  in  the  autumn  of  1786  for  Italy 
(without  letting  even  Frau  von  Stein  know  of  his  inten- 
tion), the  reason  for  and  the  result  of  this  absence,  as 
well  as  the  mode  of  his  return,  had  all  been  thoroughly 
talked  over  with  the  Duke.  In  the  schedule  made  by 
Goethe  of  the  possible  events  of  his  life,  of  which. 
Goedeke  has  printed  only  the  headings,  we  read  for 
the  year  1785  :  "  Examination  of  my  circumstances  ; " 
"  What  is  wanting  ; "  "  Journey  to  Italy  planned  ; " 
"  Superstition."  By  "  superstition  "  Goethe  refers  to 
the  conviction  he  had  that  the  proposed  journey  would 
be  a  failure  if  he  allowed  any  one  to  know  of  it  before- 
hand ;  but  the  Duke  was  in  concert  with  the  whole  thing. 
Before  Goethe  went  to  Carlsbad,  from  whence,  after  the 
course  of  treatment  was  ended,  he  started  secretly  on 
his  birthday  for  Italy  while  he  was  positively  expected 
back  in  Weimar,  the  Duke  had  given  him  two  hundred 
thalers  extra  pay,  and  had  made  him  a  present  of  a  con- 
siderable addition  for  the  journey.  It  seems  to  me  that 
Goethe  accepted  this  with  the  implied  understanding 
that  he  was  going  out  of  office,  and  should  henceforth 
have  his  place  on  the  retired  list. 

The  letters  which  he  addressed  to  the  Duke  from  Italy 
may  almost  be  said  to  have  been  written  for  show,  so  that 
the  archives  might  prove  that  his  retirement  from  office 
had  taken  place  in  the  prescribed,  conventional  way.  I 
look  upon  this  act  of  Goethe's  as  a  kind  of  acknowledg- 
ment that  the  Duke  was  now  of  age.  They  had  addressed 
each  other  familiarly  like  boys ;  but  now  all  this  was 
solemnly  buried:  henceforth  the  Duke,  even  in  private 


280  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

intercourse,  becomes  "  my  most  gracious  sovereign,"  and 
Goethe  his  "  most  humble  servant."  What  earlier  had 
been  a  relief  from  empty  formalities  became,  with  years, 
a  kind  of  childish  nonsense,  while  adhering  to  the  estab- 
lished forms  allowed  them  a  far  greater  independence  in 
their  intercourse.  Goethe  proposed  to  go  to  Italy  for  a 
short  time,  then  to  visit  his  mother  in  Frankfort,  and  from 
there  to  return  as  a  free  man  and  friend  of  the  Duke, 
to  enter  into  a  self-chosen  sphere  of  business  activity 
uvhich,  while  giving  him  an  opportunity  to  exert  an  influ- 
ence by  word  and  deed,  should  at  the  same  time  insure 
to  him  the  necessary  leisure  for  his  own  pursuits. 

If  in  looking  at  the  Ten  Years  we  keep  this  idea  in 
mind,  that  the  crisis  was  not  sudden  nor  unexpected,  we 
see  how  very  naturally  the  change  came  about  and  how, 
in  the  proportion  that  his  active  share  in  state  affairs  di- 
minished, Goethe's  literary  work  began  to  reassume  the 
prominent  place.  Until  the  beginning  of  the  year  1780 
he  had,  with  Spartan  self-command,  held  his  Pegasus 
bound  in  the  stall.  He  writes  to  Kestner  in  this  year 
that  "  book-making  is  subordinate  to  life." 

"  Yet  I  allow  myself,  after  the  example  of  the  great  king 
who  devoted  some  hours  each  day  to  the  flute,  to  practise 
occasionally  the  talent  which  is  peculiarly  mine.  Much  lies 
written  in  my  desk,  —  almost  double  what  I  have  printed. 
I  have  plans  enough,  but  for  their  execution  and  completion 
lack  the  necessary  leisure  and  concentration  of  mind.  I 
have  prepared  different  things  for  our  present  amateur 
theatre, —  coined  indeed  in  a  conventional  manner." 

In  September  of  the  same  year  he  writes  to  Frau  von 
Stein :  — 

"  O  thou  sweet  poetry  !  I  often  exclaim,  and  commend  the 
happy  Marcus  Antoninus,  who  thanks  the  gods  that  he  never 


RENEWAL    OF   LITERARY   ACTIVITY.  281 

meddled  with  poetry  and  eloquence.  I  deprive  these  foun- 
tains and  cascades  as  much  as  possible  of  their  water,  and 
reserve  it  for  the  mills  and  purposes  of  irrigation,  but  before 
I  am  aware  of  it  a  bad  genius  draws  the  stopper,  and  all 
bursts  forth  and  splashes.  And  when  I  think  I  am  trotting 
along  on  my  old  Klepper  on  my  round  of  duty,  all  at  once 
the  hack  under  me  becomes  a  glorious-winged  creature, 
which,  with  irresistible  impulse,  bears  me  away  with  him." 

And  again,  on  the  last  day  of  the  same  year,  1787,  to 
Frau  von  Stein :  — 

"  I  pity  my  Tasso :  he  lies  upon  the  desk  and  looks  at  me 
in  such  a  friendly  way !  But  how  to  help  him  ?  I  must 
bake  my  wheat  into  commissary  bread." 

This  he  says  after  having  been  four  years  in  Weimar  ; 
but  with  the  coming  of  1780  a  total  change  is  gradually 
perceptible.  At  first,  he  seeks  to  unite  duty  and  pleasure 
by  writing  history.  In  this  year  he  works  on  a  Life  of 
Bernhardt  of  Weimar,  and  studies  for  it  in  the  archives, 
but  leaves  it  unfinished  because  he  cannot  combine  the 
parts  into  artistic  unity.  In  the  October  of  1780  he  be- 
gins earnestly  to  write  the  "  Tasso ;  "  March,  1781,  the 
first  two  acts  are  finished,  and  in  1782  science  and  poetry 
without  any  excuse  decidedly  take  the  precedence.  He 
writes,  in  the  August  of  1782,  to  Frau  von  Stein  :  — 

"  This  morning  I  finished  the  chapter  in  '  Wilhelm  Meister' 
of  which  I  dictated  to  you  the  beginning.  It  gave  me  a 
happy  hour.  I  believe  I  am  a  born  writer ;  for  it  gives  me 
purer  joy  than  ever  when  I  write  something  satisfactory  to 
my  own  ideas." 

This  sounds  quite  different  already,  and  less  like  self- 
reproof.  After  this,  four  years  elapsed  before  he  really 
broke  away  and  left  for  Italy  ;  but  we  hear  no  longer  of 
any  voluntary  abstinence  from  poetical  labor.  In  his  cor- 


282  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

respondence  we  see  the  old  literary  things  and  his  scien- 
tific pursuits  crowding  into  the  foreground.  Even  though 
to  all  appearance  his  official  activity  takes  an  ever  wider 
range,  the  study  of  natural  history  and  astrological  and 
microscopic  researches  engross  him  at  least  quite  as  much  ; 
while  he  makes  good  progress  with  "  Wilhelm  Meister," 
and  prepares  the  first  complete  edition  of  his  works. 
In  the  year  1785  these  literary  matters  take  such  a  prom- 
inent place  that  very  little  else  is  talked  of  by  him.  At 
this  time,  as  we  see,  the  quiet  preparation  for  a  great 
change  was  in  full  progress.  And  when  from  Rome 
Goethe  finally  announces  to  the  Duke,  as  the  latest  dis- 
covery, that  he  has  found  himself  an  artist  again  in  Italy, 
this  "  finding  again "  as  artist,  and  we  may  add  as 
scholar,  had  been  already  accomplished  before  he  left 
Weimar ;  for  Goethe  had  long  given  to  these  the  chief 
place,  and  the  officer  of  state  held  only  second  rank. 

A  very  advantageous  position  eminently  suited  to  his 
character,  and  such  perhaps  as  was  never  again  offered 
to  any  mortal,  was  in  reserve  for  Goethe  in  case  of 
his  return  to  Weimar.  And  if  during  his  absence  envy 
and  jealousy  found  fault  with  his  plan,  his  personal  influ- 
ence, when  he  again  appeared  among  them,  worked  so 
powerfully  that  everything  took  the  happy  course  which 
by  the  Duke  and  himself  had  been  hoped  for  and 
prophesied. 


GOETHE'S  LITEKARY  IMITATIONS.         283 


LECTURE  XY. 

THE   GERMAN   AND   THE   ROMAN  IPHIGENIA. 

WE  have  seen  that  for  "  Gotz  von  Berlichingen  " 
Shakspeare  was  the  standard.  In  this  work,  as 
Goethe  said  himself,  he  offered  his  tribute  to  Shakspeare. 
We  next  find  him  in  "  Clavigo  "  imitating  the  prosaic  form 
of  the  "  biirgerlich  Riihrstiick,"  which  was  very  like  the 
common  sensational  drama  of  modern  times.  But  now, 
when  Goethe  had  begun  to  rely  on  himself,  it  would  have 
been  quite  natural  for  him  to  create  a  form  of  his  own 
in  which  to  embody  his  further  productions.  So  it  was 
with  Lessing,  who,  after  imitating  various  styles,  gave  us, 
in  "  Nathan  the  Wise,"  a  new  and  original  work  of  art. 
Moreover,  Goethe,  in  Weimar,  now  came  practically  in 
contact  with  stage  life.  It  is  true,  castle  and  theatre  had 
been  burned  down ;  and  it  was  not  possible  in  the  first 
years  to  have  a  resident  troupe  of  actors  in  the  city:  but 
the  court  party  themselves,  as  has  been  already  remarked, 
made  good  this  loss  through  their  own  efforts ;  and  Goethe 
took  part  in  all  this  earnestly  from  the  outset.  He  acted 
himself  on  the  stage,  and  wrote  for  it ;  indeed,  it  was 
here  that  he  had  first  the  direct  intention  of  writing  any- 
thing for  the  boards.  No  fairer  opportunity  could  have 
been  afforded  him  to  test  practically  the  convictions  he 
had  arrived  at  theoretically. 

If  any  such  expectations  had  been  entertained,  how- 
ever, they  were  disappointed.    Goethe,  as  poet  and  writer, 


284  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

had  abdicated  his  throne.  He  unhesitatingly  resigns  the 
elevated  stand-point  already  won,  where  he  had  appeared 
to  the  Germans,  yes,  to  the  European  public,  as  a  man 
who  justified  the  grandest  hopes,  and  from  this  moment 
produces  only  a  number  of  small  plays.  He  begins  his 
"  Iphigenia  "  it  is  true,  —  not  with  the  intention  of  rival- 
ling the  ancients,  or  with  any  very  grand  aim  before  him, 
but  simply  to  please  the  narrow  circle  of  the  Weimar 
court  with  a  drama ;  and,  since  the  subject  accidentally 
admitted  of  it,  to  prove  to  the  Duke,  who  had  been  edu- 
cated in  a  reverence  for  the  French  classics,  that  the  same 
kind  of  plays  could  be  produced  in  the  German  language. 
"  Iphigenia  "  was  a  step  backwards. 

Let  us  now  see  out  of  what  elements  this  poem  was 
developed. 

When,  in  the  discussion  of  "  Gotz,"  the  genesis  of  the 
modern  theatre  was  considered,  I  had  in  mind  only  the 
spoken,  and  not  the  sung,  drama.  The  spoken  drama 
we  have  seen  was  cultivated  only  in  Spain,  France,  and 
England :  Italy  remained  in  the  background.  Here  the 
opera  took  the  first  rank  ;  and  its  form,  in  the  course  of 
the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries,  was  brought  to 
such  perfection  in  France  and  England,  as  well  as  in  Ger- 
many, that  the  Italian  opera  soon  rivalled  the  native 
spoken  drama. 

The  opera  differs  entirely  from  the  drama  in  its  origin. 
The  drama  arose  as  the  product  of  the  common  life  of 
the  people :  the  opera  flourished  only  at  the  courts  as  a 
pastime  for  an  exclusive  aristocratic  circle.  The  drama 
sought  more  and  more  to  represent  national  characters 
and  events:  the  opera  adhered  to  the  traditionary  classic 
phantoms  which  in  Italy,  France,  and  England  —  in  short, 
everywhere  where  operas  were  performed  —  displayed  to 
the  audience  the  same  feelings,  and  were  best  rendered  in 
the  Italian  language. 


THE  OPERA  AND  THE  DRAMA.       285 

The  drama  kept  pace  with  the  entire  progress  of  the 
century  in  literature  and  culture,  while  the  opera  remains 
as  it  was  in  the  beginning,  —  a  hot-house  plant,  to  which 
it  matters  not  what  the  outside  climate  may  be, —  an  im- 
ported, artificially  sustained  creation. 

When  in  the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth  centuries  the  mod- 
ern theatre  sprang  up  in  Italy,  the  distinction  was  at  once 
made  between  comedy  and  tragedy,  according  to  the 
antique  models.  The  comedies  based  upon  Plautus  and 
Terence  sought  to  retain  the  conversational  tone ;  while 
the  plays  based  on  an  imitation  of  the  Greek  tragedies 
consisted  of  solemn  declamation,  alternating  with  ballet 
and  choruses.  Here  it  was  only  necessary  to  transform 
the  monologues  into  arias,  and  to  raise  the  dialogues  to 
duettos,  and  you  had  an  opera.  In  this  form  the  opera 
was  steadily  maintained.  The  music  changed,  composers 
following  one  another ;  each  rose  to  a  higher  eminence 
than  the  last :  but  the  outward  form  of  the  opera  re- 
mained unchanged,  because  the  music  always  made  the 
same  demands  on  the  text ;  the  composer  required  a 
readily  understood  plot,  —  leaving  history  and  politics  in 
the  background,  —  simple  ideal  characters,  as  well  as 
plausible  motives  founded  only  on  the  logic  of  the  heart 
and  the  passions.  The  plot  must  like  some  great  stream, 
with  an  ever-broadening,  increasing  strength  of  current, 
bear  the  hearer  away  with  it.  These  librettos,  which  it 
was  not  difficult  to  prepare,  early  took  a  permanent  lit- 
erary form.  The  acts  must  have  very  few  scenes,  the  plot 
be  perfectly  simple,  and  the  dramatis  personce  find  the 
proper  opportunities  to  manifest  extreme  passion.  It  was 
not  necessary  that  the  verses  should  be  equal  in  length, 
nor  rhymed,  nor  especially  good.  Nevertheless,  there 
have  been  poets  who,  in  this  simple  unfinished  form,  so 
wholly  inferior,  have  yet  contrived  to  produce  something 


286  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

original.  Metastasio's  opera  texts  in  the  last  century 
were  so  renowned  for  the  beauty  and  sweetness  of  their 
language  that  they  were  played  on  the  Italian  stage  with- 
out music,  as  spoken  dramas.  This  form  of  the  spoken 
opera  text  Goethe  chose  for  his  "  Iphigenia."  He  calls  it 
the  "  French  form  ;  "  for  the  French  also  had  distinguished 
libretto  poets,  among  whom  Quinault  took  the  first  rank. 
By  an  accident,  as  it  were,  this  form  seemed  to  have 
slipped  into  Goethe's  hands. 

After  Handel,  who  had  died  in  1759,  Gluck  took  the 
first  rank  among  opera  composers.  In  Vienna  and  Italy 
Gluck  had  had  unrivalled  success ;  and  later,  when  he 
turned  to  Paris,  his  u  Iphigenia  in  Aulis  "  produced  there 
the  greatest  possible  excitement.  The  text  to  this  was 
written  by  Rollet  after  Racine's  tragedy.  This  opera 
appeared  a  year  before  Goethe  went  to  Weimar. 

Gluck,  born  in  1714,  was  at  that  time  an  elderly  man  ; 
he  had  no  children  and  lived  with  his  young  niece,  whom 
he  tenderly  loved,  and  lost  in  April,  1776.  It  was  at 
that  time  the  custom,  in  a  far  greater  degree  than  now,  to 
honor  the  dead  in  memorial  verses.  Gluck  wished,  as  a 
tribute  to  this  young  maiden,  to  compose  a  cantata  and 
applied  to  Wieland  for  the  text.  Wieland's  answer  to 
this  request  we  have,  dated  July  14,  1776.  He  says : 

"  I  myself  am  not  able  to  send  anything  worthy,  and  the 
only  person  who  can  do  it,  beside  Klopstock,  is  Goethe, 
and  to  him  I  went,  and  showed  him  your  letter :  the  fol- 
lowing day  I  found  him  possessed  with  a  great  idea  that  he 
was  working  upon.  I  saw  it  taking  form,  and  looked  for- 
ward with  the  greatest  delight  to  a  successful  consummation 
however  difficult  the  task  had  seemed  to  me  ;  for  what  is 
impossible  to  Goethe  ?  I  saw  that  he  brooded  over  it  with 
love :  only  a  little  quiet,  a  few  lonely  days,  and  what  he  had 
permitted  me  to  see  in  his  soul  I  felt  would  be  put  upon 


ORIGIN   OF   HIS    "IPHIGENIA."  287 

paper.  But  fate  denies  this  comfort  to  him  and  to  you.  His 
present  situation  is  full  of  unrest,  his  attention  more  and 
more  drawn  to  other  things  ;  and  now  that  he  has  accepted  a 
place  in  the  secret  council,  conferred  upon  him  by  the  unlim- 
ited confidence  and  special  affection  of  the  Duke,  I  fear  that 
almost  all  hope  is  passed  of  the  immediate  accomplishment  of 
the  work  begun  for  you.  He  himself,  however,  has  given  up 
neither  the  intention  nor  the  hope.  I  know  that  he  from  time 
to  time  revolves  it  seriously ;  but  in  this  state  of  things,  and 
while  he  is  not  master  of  a  single  day,  what  promise  can 
be  held  out  ?  I  had  expected  to  send  you  the  whole  or  at 
least  part  of  the  piece  Goethe  has  dedicated  to  the  memory 
of  your  lovely  niece.  Goethe  hopes  this  himself,  and  has 
put  me  off  with  promises  from  time  to  time,  and  as  I  know 
this  glorious  creature,  it  seems  to  me  it  must  yet  be 
achieved." 

From  Goethe's  correspondence  at  the  same  time  we 
see  how  much  this  cantata  was  in  his  thoughts  ;  but  noth- 
ing is  said  of  its  contents,  nor  is  it  even  mentioned  later. 
I  believe,  however,  we  may  assume  that  this  cantata  in 
honor  of  Gluck's  niece  was  the  origin  of  his  "  Iphigenia." 
Through  a  curious  calculation  this  is  made  plausible. 
Long  years  after  this  time  Goethe  once  dictated  to  his 
secretary  Riemer,  as  an  inscription  upon  a  fly-leaf  on 
which  was  found  one  of  his  poems,  the  following : 
"  Schwalbenstein,  near  Ilmenau,  sereno  die,  quieta  menie, 
—  I  wrote,  after  having  hesitated  three  years  about  it,  the 
fourth  act  of  '  Iphigenia '  in  one  day."  From  a  letter  to 
Frau  von  Stein  we  learn  that  Goethe  wrote  the  fourth  act 
of  "  Iphigenia"  at  Schwalbenstein,  March'  18,  1779.  If 
we  now  reckon  backward  three  years  we  come  to  March, 
1776 ;  and  the  request  for  the  cantata  came  in  April, 
1776,  —  one  or  two  months,  more  or  less,  matters  not  here. 
That  Goethe,  who  had  been  deeply  impressed  by  Gluck's 
"Iphigenia  in  Aulis,"  should  have  chosen  Iphigenia  as  the 


288  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

theme  for  the  obsequies  of  a  young  girl  was  a  thought 
as  natural  as  it  was  beautiful.  It  is  possible  indeed  that 
Gluck,  who  was  informed  about  the  matter,  finding  later 
that  nothing  could  be  obtained  from  Goethe,  composed 
the  music  to  Guinard  de  la  Touche's  "  Iphigenia,"  first 
performed  in  1772,  and  made  into  a  regular  libretto  by 
one  Mr.  Guillard  (not  Guichard). 

Why  did  Goethe  suddenly  drop  this  cantata  after  hav- 
ing carried  it  on  to  a  certain  point,  and  which  he  had  be- 
gun with  so  much  enthusiasm  ?  I  suspect  not  merely  for 
the  reasons  given  by  Wieland,  but  because  the  material 
under  his  hands  changed  into  a  poem,  the  subject  of 
which  was  Fran  von  Stein. 

Goethe  had  sought  from  the  beginning  a  poetic  symbol 
for  his  relation  with  Frau  von  Stein,  and,  as  we  see,  be- 
lieved he  had  found  it  in  the  beautiful  phrase, — 

"  Oh,  thou  wast  in  times  outlived  my  sister  or  my  wife!" 

This  was  the  form  the  theme  took  in  his  soul.  He 
sought  to  embody  it  in  this  sense  in  the  short  comedy  of 
the  brother  and  sister,  —  "Die  Geschwister."  A  brother 
and  sister  lived  together,  and  cherished  a  passion  for  each 
other  without  being  aware  of  it ;  an  accident  discovers  to 
the  maiden  that  she  is  not  his  sister,  and  the  tragic  ele- 
ment resolves  itself  into  the  purest  happiness.  In  order 
fully  to  appreciate  this  touching  little  piece,  which  is 
written  in  prose,  it  is  necessary  to  see  it  well  acted. 

But  Goethe's  relation  to  Frau  von  "Stein  admitted  of 
still  higher  possibilities.  At  the  time  his  imagination 
seized  upon  Iphigenia  as  material  for  a  poem,  perhaps  he 
did  not  immediately  perceive  how  dear  this  form  was  to 
his  heart.  As  soon  as  he  realizes  it  the  work  flags  ;  for 
now  it  needs  a  wholly  different  handling.  In  Iphigenia 
could  be  represented  what  peace  the  sisterly  friendship  of 


THE   DUKE    AS    THOAS    IN    "  IPHIGENIA."      289 

the  beloved  Frau  had  given  his  heart.  Their  mutual  in- 
tercourse could  be  raised  to  a  height  on  which  it  was  per- 
missible to  say  everything.  Orestes,  tortured  by  the 
Furies  (I  remind  you  of  the  curse  of  Cain  which  made 
Goethe  so  restless),  is  delivered  by  the  mere  presence  of 
Iphigenia :  the  moment  when  Orestes  recovers  himself 
in  the  presence  of  his  sister  and  friend  forms,  as  Goe- 
the himself  emphatically  said,  "  the  axis  of  the  piece." 
In  this  new  sense  he  began  the  mental  work  ;  but  it  was 
three  years  longer  before  the  poem  was  so  far  matured 
that  it  coul'd  be  written  down  for  the  first  time,  and  the 
fourth  and  fifth  acts  be  joined  to  the  first  three,  which 
were  started  much  earlier. 

The  mere  relationship  of  Orestes  to  Iphigenia  offered  no 
climax  for  the  action,  because  the  dividing  and  opposing 
elements  were  wanting,  which  together  with  the  element 
of  union  constitute  material  for  a  plot.  By  degrees  only 
could  real  experiences  supply  these  to  the  poet ;  for  grad- 
ually, though  steadily,  the  burden  increased  which  his 
new  relations  laid  upon  Goethe.  In  the  character  of 
Thoas  he  personified  them.  I  will  not  go  so  far  as  to  say 
that  Thoas  is  Carl  August,  but  that  part  of  the  Duke's 
individuality  helped  to  form  the  character  is  certain. 
Let  us  consider  all  we  know  of  the  character  of  the  Duke, 
and  inquire  whether  Thoas  does  not  contain  every  feature, 
and  whether  we  find  any  qualities  which  differ  from  his  ? 
Goethe  was  bound  to  this  character  by  the  sacred  ties  of 
duty  and  gratitude.  The  foreboding  of  a  separation  arises 
in  him,  while  at  the  same  time  reverence  and  gratitude 
hold  him  back  ;  only  ideally  shall  this  parting  take  place. 
Goethe  intimated  once,  when  the  piece  was  read  aloud  at 
court,  that  the  Duke  probably  had  understood  what  was 
meant  by  the  farewell  with  which  the  tragedy  closes,  and 
what  Thoas  signified.  It  is  impossible  to  read  in  the  last 

19 


290  LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF   GOETHE. 

scene  of  the  last  act  the  thrilling  petition  for  freedom, 
without  detecting  in  Iphigenia  Goethe's  soul  supplicating 
for  enfranchisement  from  unendurable  conditions. 

We  often  see  Goethe  work  thus.  The  primary  thought  of 
the  poem  arises  in  him,  then  comes  a  long  pause,  and  then 
the  real  construction  of  it  begins  ;  therefore  Goethe  dates 
the  work  of  Iphigenia  not  earlier  than  the  beginning 
of  1779,  when  he  for  the  first  time  seriously  took  it  in 
hand,  because  he  wished  to  have  it  performed  on  a  special 
occasion. 

In  February,  1779,  we  find  mention  of  the  'progress  of 
the  poem.  On  the  14th  of  February  we  have  a  notice  in 
the  diary,  "  Began  this  morning  to  dictate  Iphigenia." 
If  we  had  only  this  note,  we  might  infer  that  Goethe 
really  began  the  piece  on  this  day ;  but  a  letter  to  Frau 
von  Stein  the  same  day  tells  us  what  is  meant  by  this 
"  dictating."  He  writes  to  her : — 

"  I  have  brooded  the  whole  day  over  '  Iphigenia,'  until  ray 
head  is  perfectly  confused,  although,  as  the  best  preparation 
for  the  work.  I  slept  last  night  ten  hours.  In  the  midst  of 
all  this  distraction,  and  with  only  one  foot  in  the  stirrup  of 
the  poet's  Hippogriff,  it  will  be  very  difficult  to  produce  any- 
thing that  is  not  clad  in  shining  rags.  Good-night,  clearest ; 
I  have  ordered  music  to  soothe  my  soul  and  set  the  spirits 
free." 

"We  see  by  this  that  it  was  not  the  first  unfolding  of  the 
idea  of  the  drama,  but  the  working  it  out,  which  he  re- 
ferred to  on  this  day.  Goethe,  as  it  were,  tried  to  set  at 
rest  the  different  versions  of  the  drama  contending  in  his 
mind,  by  dictating  the  words  aloud  to  himself,  and  thus 
making  the  living  language  the  judge.  He  hoped  in  this 
way  to  work  the  elements  of  his  poem  into  a  more  clearly 
defined  form. 


HIS  SHORTER  POEMS,  OR  SONGS.      291 

We  must  go  still  further  here  and  speak  of  the  difficulty 
which  chiefly  urged  Goethe  to  make  this  dictation  the 
means  of  gaining  for  his  work  a  form  which  he  then 
hoped  was  final.  In  the  Frankfort  'days  Goethe  had 
formed  his  own  language,  —  a  mixture  of  the  South-Ger- 
man dialects  which  here  and  there  he  had  heard,  and  had 
himself  spoken,  together  with  reminiscences  of  the  Folk- 
songs, and  of  the  German  of  the  sixteenth  and  seven- 
teenth centuries,  as  well  as  some  Greek  and  Shakspearian 
touches,  and,  added  to  all,  Lavater's  method,  which  im- 
printed a  distinguishing  stamp  upon  it.  The  prose  in 
which  Goethe  composed  "  Werther  "  shows  his  use  of  this 
new  idiom,  and  also  the  conscious,  careful,  thorough  way 
in  which  he  had  wrought  it  out. 

During  the  first  and  second  years  in  Weimar  this  tone 
is  still  the  prevailing  one  ;  and  he  carries  on  his  correspon- 
dence in  the  accustomed  style  and  way.  "  Stella "  is 
printed  at  this  time,  and  he  continues  to  write  his  short 
poems  in  the  same  manner  as  hitherto.  These  poems  of 
immortal  beauty,  and  inspired  with  a  melody  of  thoughts 
and  words  such  as  has  only  been  attained  in  a  few  of  the 
old  Greek  lyrics,  did  much  to  convince  Goethe's  friends  at 
that  time  that  he  was  indeed  a  great  poet.  They  are  of 
the  nature  of  Folk-songs,  and  seem  intended  to  be  sung. 
He  repeated  them  willingly  when  asked.  We  often  hear 
of  his  reciting  to  his  friends  "  The  King  of  Thule."  He 
was  not  reserved,  and  read  or  repeated  from  memory  what 
pleased  him  at  the  moment. 

But  now  gradually  his  literary  intercourse  with  his 
western  friends  ceases,  and  soon  the  romances  and  bal- 
lads cease  as  well.  The  influence  of  his  new  home  makes 
itself  felt,  where  the  people  read  more  than  they  talk. 
Goethe  sees  that  he  needs  other  resources  than  those 
hitherto  at  his  command.  His  new  public  do  not  under- 


292  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

stand  him,  and  his  new  thoughts  require  another  dress. 
The  defiant  tone  of  his  prose  in  the  Frankfort  days  was 
in  keeping  with  his  youth,  when  the  more  talent  a  man 
has  the  more  radically  he  is  accustomed  to  think  ;  but 
now  his  altered  position  demands  dignity  and  stateliness. 
The  thoughts  which  were  in  his  soul  could  no  longer  be 
dashed  off  without  regard  to  what  people  might  say  of 
them,  but  required  veiling  and  silent  circumspection. 
Even  in  1776  Goethe  was  no  longer  the  "  splendid  boy," 
as  the  Stolbergs  caressingly  spoke  of  him :  such  terms 
were  no  longer  admissible.  Goethe  begins  to  adopt  the 
phraseology  of  the  North-German  syntax,  —  a  language 
more  written  than  spoken ;  and  the  effort  to  write  no 
longer  as  the  people  speak  is  manifest,  but  to  teach  the 
people  how  to  speak  the  language  best  suited  to  the  ex- 
pression of  feeling  and  the  statement  of  facts.  Only  the 
beginnings  of  these  endeavors  are  visible,  but  we  realize 
that  they  exist.  These  attempts  and  vacillations  account 
for  the  hesitation  which  prevents  Goethe  from  acknowl- 
edging his  works  as  finished,  even  after  having  written 
them  over  many  times.  Hence  the  slow  progress  of  his 
works.  He  feels  himself  a  homeless  wanderer  in  litera- 
ture :  he  will  form  his  own  language,  but  finds  no  living 
germ  in  his  surroundings  which  might  be  used  for  this 
purpose ;  and  nothing  remains  for  him  but  to  rely  entirely 
on  his  own  resources.  The  sound  of  his  own  words  shall 
tell  him  whether  they  render  exactly  his  feeling  and 
thought;  and  he  begins  to  dictate, a  kind  of  desperate 
measure  to  save  himself  from  the  chaos  which  forced  him 
in  Italy  to  seize  upon  wholly  new  means,  and  to  create, 
instead  of  the  accidental  natural  sound,  the  harmony  of 
conscious  art  pursued  according  to  principles. 

It  is  worthy  of  notice  how,  on  resuming  the  work  on 
"  Iphigeuia,"  he  called  in  the  aid  of  music.    It  seems  to  be 


HE    SEEKS    THE    INSPIRATION    OF    MUSIC.      293 

no  mere  accident  which  led  him  to  work  with  its  assist- 
ance. A  week  after  he  first  spoke  of  it  we  find  it  men- 
tioned again,  in  connection  with  "  Iphigenia."  On  the  22d 
of  February  he  says  in  a  letter  to  Frau  von  Stein :  "  My 
soul  by  the  delicious  tones  is  gradually  freed  from  the 
shackles  of  deeds  and  protocols.  A  quartette  in  the  green 
,rooin.  I  am  sitting  here,  calling  the  distant  forms  gently 
to  me.  One  scene  must  be  floated  off  to-day,  therefore  I 
shall  hardly  come.  Good-night." 

This  resorting  to  the  musical  element  seems  almost  to 
prove  that  "  Iphigenia"  was  first  suggested  by  the  Gluck 
cantata,'  but  it  also  shows  that  dictation  was  not  suffi- 
cient to  create  that  rhythm  in  Goethe's  soul  which  he 
needed  in  order  to  find  a  new  language  for  fresh  thoughts 
and  ideas.  In  his  "  Gb'tz  "  the  women  spoke  a  hearty, 
home-bred  dialect :  they  were  Germans,  who  carried  on 
the  intercourse  with  their  own  country  people  in  their 
own  language.  To  Iphigenia,  on  the  contrary,  —  a  royal 
princess,  who  thousands  of  years  ago  lived  in  communion 
with  gods  and  goddesses,  —  such  downright  homely  speech 
would  have  been  wholly  unbecoming.  The  mythical  sur- 
roundings required  the  purest  expression  of  feeling,  quite 
free  from  all  local  coloring.  The  experiences  of  actual 
life  here  offered  Goethe  nothing.  He  must  adhere  to  the 
models  in  which  the  same  things  had  already  been  accom- 
plished. The  mere  syntactic  harmony  of  the  French  lan- 
guage and  the  euphonism  of  the  Italian  suddenly  became 
more  attractive  to  him  than  anything  the  German  lan- 
guage could  offer;  and,  in  order  to  raise  himself  wholly 
above  the  region  of  every-day  experiences,  he  sought  to 
create  a  new  poetic  language  by  writing  under  the  inspi- 
ration of  music. 

Willingly  would  one  here  believe  that  the  quartette  re- 
ferred to  was  music  from  Gluck's  "Iphigenia  in  Tauris," 


294  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

and  see  in  the  "  distant  forms  "  the  figures  of  the  tragedy 
as  they  once  dwelt  in  his  soul,  though  they  had  long  since, 
as  it  were,  taken  flight  again.  In  later  days  Goethe  made 
use  of  the  same  expression  in  the  opening  of  "  Faust "  : 
"Again  ye  come,  ye  hovering  forms."  It  is  assumed  that 
Gluck's  "  Iphigenia  in  Tauris  "  influenced  Goethe's  work  ; 
nevertheless,  it  is  well  to  bear  in  mind,  in  this  connection, 
that  the  opera  appeared  for  the  first  time  in  Paris  on  the 
18th  of  May,  1779,  while,  as  we  see,  Goethe  had  already 
begun  to  write  his  tragedy  in  January,  1779.  In  1780 
the  score  of  the  opera  was  published  ;  in  1781  it  was  given 
for  the  first  time  in  Vienna,  and  in  1795  in  Berlin. 

Goethe  was  so  very  much  engrossed  in  this  work  in 
February,  that  during  a  journey  in  the  service  of  the 
Duke,  upon  which  few  quiet  moments  were  permitted 
him,  he  still  managed  to  write  on  it.  In  a  letter  to  Frau 
von  Stein  dated  March  1,  from  a  little  miserable  Thurin- 
gian  town  in  which  he  was  trying  to  raise  recruits,  he 
says :  "  I  have  finished  my  grabbing  up  of  men  ;  I  have 
eaten  my  dinner  and  talked  of  old  times :  my  drama  comes 
on."  Again  from  Dornburg  the  next  day :  "  You  can  say 
to  Knebel  that  the  piece  is  getting  into  shape  and  begin- 
ning to  have  members.  To-morrow  I  am  busy  with  the 
enlisting ;  after  that  I  will  lock  myself  up  in  the  old  castle, 
and  for  some  days  puzzle  out  my  characters.  Now  I  live 
with  the  men  of  this  world  ;  eat,  drink,  and  sometimes 
joke  with  them,  but  nevertheless  scarcely  perceive  them, 
for  my  deeper  life  holds  undisturbed  its  course." 

This  inward  communion  with  the  forms  of  his  imagina- 
tion Goethe  calls  "  talking  with  spirits."  The  5th  of 
March  he  writes  to  Knebel :  "  I  must  confess  to  you  that 
as  a  vagabond  poet  I  am  almost  fagged  out ;  and  if  I  had 
not  had  several  beautiful  days  in  the  quiet,  lovely  Dorn- 
burger  castle,  the  egg  must  have  rotted  half-hatched." 


FIRST    PERFORMANCE    OF    "  IPHIGENIA."       295 

In  this  strain  he  continues :  "Recruits  and  Iphigenla" 
From  Apolda  he  writes  :  "  Here  the  drama  will  not  get 
on  at  all.  The  king  of  Tauris  shall  speak  as  if  there  were 
no  hungry  stocking-weavers  in  Apolda."  On  the  4th  of 
March  he  announces  his  return  to  Weimar,  without  hav- 
ing, as  he  had  confidently  hoped,  finished  the  drama  ;  goes 
again  into  the  mountain  and  writes  on  the  18th  of  March, 
as  has  been  before  mentioned  :  "Alone  upon  the  Schwal- 
benstein,  the  fourth  act."  The  1st  of  April  we  find :  "  Re- 
hearsals of '  Iphigenia '  and  management  of  all  belonging 
thereto."  At  last  on  the  6th  of  April,  1779,  the  first  per- 
formance takes  place.  Goethe  played  Orestes  ;  Knebel, 
Thoas  ;  Prince  Constantin,  Pylades  ;  Corona  Schroeter, 
Iphigenia.  At  the  second  performance,  the  Duke  him- 
self took  the  part  of  Pylades.  A  court  lady,  Fraulein 
von  Gochhausen,  reports  to  Goethe's  mother  that  her 
son's  dress,  as  well  as  that  of  Pylades,  was  Greek,  and 
says  she  had  never  seen  him  look  so  handsome.  How 
the  whole  representation  went  off,  after  all,  we  do  not  ex- 
actly know.  To-day  we  are  accustomed  to  historical  cos- 
tume on  the  stage  :  then  it  was  something  quite  new.  In 
the  last  century  even  classic  pieces  were  acted  in  a  kind 
of  picturesque  conventional  costume  of  the  time,  in  which 
wigs,  knee-breeches,  high-heeled  shoes,  and  long  stock- 
ings were  not  to  be  dispensed  with.  In  1770,  for  the 
first  time,  an  attempt  was  made  to  bring  national  cos- 
tumes upon  the  stage. 

Goethe  was  not  by  any  means  satisfied  with  this  first 
form  of  "  Iphigenia ;  "  he  called  it  from  the  beginning  only 
a  sketch,  where  the  question  was  what  colors  to  put  on. 
The  representation  was  the  chief  consideration  with  him. 
Even  for  a  fresh  performance  in  the  following  year  it  was 
entirely  rewritten.  Stahr  first  published  the  oldest  edi- 
tion of  it,  and  Diintzer  printed  the  three  oldest  forms  of 


296  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

"  Ipliigenia  "  together.  Goethe  cannot  let  it  alone  ;  he 
takes  the  manuscript  with  him  on  all  his  journeys,  or 
when  in  Weimar  it  is  constantly  on  the  road  between  his 
house  and  Frau  von  Stein's.  Wieland,  Herder,  Knebel, 
and  Frau  von  Stein  continually  give  advice  with  regard 
to  it,  and  there  is  no  word  used  in  it  which  is  not  tested 
and  turned  hither  and  thither.  Goethe  did  not  think  of 
printing  it,  but  gives  away  written  copies  of  it.  Knebel 
on  one  of  his  journeys  reads  "  Iphigenia"  aloud  in  many 
places,  and  arouses  enthusiasm.  Kestner  has  a  copy 
sent  him  in  1783.  Single  scenes  even  find  their  way  per 
nefas  into  a  magazine.  The  Duke  also  kept  up  his  interest 
in  it.  In  August,  1785,  Goethe  read  the  piece  again  aloud 
to  him.  "  The  Duke  felt  somewhat  oddly  disturbed  about 
it,"  he  writes  to  Frau  von  Stein,  perhaps  because  at  that 
time  —  although  she  was  not  aware  of  it — the  separa- 
tion which  was  imminent  between  Goethe  and  the  Duke 
had  been  talked  over  anew.  "  Iphigenia  "  is  Goethe's  child 
of  pain.  •  She  was  the  confidant  of  his  most  secret  feel- 
ings. She  is  unceasingly  spoken  of  in  all  his  letters  and 
notes ;  and  all  this  work  of  ten  years  was,  after  all,  only 
preparatory,  and  wholly  sacrificed  to  the  new  "  Iphigenia" 
which  arose  in  Italy. 

Another  aim  of  Goethe's  in  this  journey  had  been  to 
gain  leisure  for  the  supervision  of  the  already-mentioned 
edition  of  his  works.  Hitherto  there  had  only  been  an 
unauthorized  collection  of  them,  published  by  the  Ber- 
lin bookseller  Himburg  in  four  volumes,  the  proceeds  of 
which  had  gone  into  his  own  pocket.  Now  Goethe  had 
arranged  with  Gb'schen  to  print  the  first  legitimate  edition 
of  his  collected  works.  It  was  the  intention  at  first  to 
include  "  Iphigenia  "  in  this  edition,  in  the  form  it  had  in 
1786  before  Goethe's  departure.  Goethe  conferred  about 
this  matter  with  Wieland  and  Herder ;  he  sat  with  them, 


HE   PREPARES    TO    REWRITE    "  IPHIGENIA."  •  297 

as  he  writes,  in  judgment  on  "  Iphigenia,"  but  finally  took 
the  manuscript  with  him  to  Carlsbad,  in  order,  as  he 
said,  to  devote  a  few  more  days  to  it;  from  there,  he  dis- 
appeared as  we  know  into  Italy,  and  the  few  days  were 
lengthened  into  many. 

In  one  of  the  very  first  letters  from  Italy  the  work  is 
spoken  of.  He  describes  the  passage  across  the  Bren- 
ner.1 Diintzer  has  called  attention  to  this  letter,  as 
having  undergone  a  change ;  if  so,  it  was  to  its  advan- 
tage. Goethe  added  to  the  letter,  in  preparing  it  for 
publication,  all  the  longing  for  Italy  which  he  felt  at  this 
time,  and  in  this  way  gave  to  it  the  right  tone  as  an  in- 
troduction to  his  Italian  experiences  ;  but  all  concerning 
"  Iphigenia  "  remained  unchanged  in  it.  He  was  'alone 
in  his  carriage  ;  and  from  the  great  package  which  con- 
tained his  writings  he  took  out  the  manuscript  of  the 
drama.  "  The  day  is  long,"  he  writes,  "  and  reflection 
undisturbed  while  the  glorious  images  of  the  world 
about  me  do  not  by  any  means  banish  poetic  thoughts, 
but  rather  attract  them." 

How  true  is  this  remark !  Herein  lies  the  inspiration 
of  the  mountains,  that  the  levelling  work  of  man  shrinks 
into  insignificance,  while  the  simple,  grand,  destroying 
and  creating  forces  of  Nature  retain  their  visible  power. 
One  is  prepared  for  grand  results,  and  knows  from  the 
outset  that  there  is  no  contending  against  them  ;  while  in 
the  plain  one  believes  again  and  again  to  have  so  skilfully 
dammed  the  rivers  that  after  the  late  flood  no  other  can 
ever  occur.  Goethe's  description  of  the  Alps,  the  moon- 
light night,  when  driven  by  restlessness  he  went  alone  in 
the  little  carriage  over  the  pass ;  then  the  descent  into 
Italy,  and  the  wholly  different  kind  of  scenery  there,  —  is 
painted  with  all  the  resources  of  his  descriptive  art.  Be- 

1 A  mountain  in  the  Tyrol. 


298  '  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

ing  always  at  work  upon  "  Iphigenia,"  a  reflection  of  the 
thoughts  in  his  poem  shines  upon  the  path  he  travels. 
He  seems  to  have  had  nothing  else  in  his  soul.  "Iphige- 
nia" must  take  the  place  of  the  absent  friend  to  whom 
most  of  his  letters  from  Italy  were  written.  Formerly,  I 
interpreted  the  leaving  Weimar  like  the  Swiss  journey  in 
which  he  made  an  attempt  to  free  himself  from  Lilli,  and 
thought  Goethe  was  governed  by  a  desire  to  place  himself 
in  a  different  position  towards  Frau  von  Stein  ;  but  I  be- 
lieve that  in  this  I  was  mistaken,  and  that  the  element  of 
separation  only  came  in  later.  In  his  last  letter  to  her, 
before  leaving  Carlsbad,  were  the  significant  words  :  — 

"  In  any  case  I  must  stay  a  week  longer ;  but  then  all  will 
end  quietly,  and  the  ripe  fruit  fall  off.  Then  shall  I  live 
with  thee  in  a  free  world,  in  happy  retirement,  and  without 
name  or  position  feel  more  at  home  on  this  earth  from  which 
we  sprung." 

Iphigenia  was  the  representative  of  the  beloved  woman, 
the  form  in  which  she  accompanied  him. 

"  Ou  the  Gardasee,  as  the  strong  south  wind  drove  the 
waves  from  the  shore,  where  I  was  as  much  alone  at  least  as 
my  heroine  on  the  strand  at  Tauris,  I  wrote  the  first  lines  of 
the  new  rendering,  which  I  afterward  continued  to  work  on  in 
Verona,  Vicenza,  Padua,  but  most  industriously  in  Vienna." 

This  is  said  in  that  letter  of  the  "  Italian  Journey  "  in 
which  he  gives  a  general  account  of  the  work.  From 
Verona  he  writes  on  the  16th  of  September :  — 

"  I  feel  tired  and  overworked,  for  I  have  had  my  pen  in 
hand  the  whole  day.  I  must  copy  the  entire  drama." 

A  week  later  from  Vicenza,  towards  the  end  of  Sep- 
tember, he  writes :  — 


TRAVELLING   IN   ITALY.  299 

"I  am  copying  'Iphigenia,'  which  takes  me  many  hours; 
yet  it  gives  me,  among  this  strange  people  and  surrounded 
by  new  objects,  a  certain  identity,  and  is  a  recollection  of 
home." 

Now  for  Venice  !  His  progress  in  the  work  keeps  pace 
with  the  journey.  We  know  the  verse  in  Goethe's  poem 

to  Lida  :  —  * 

"  Afar  from  thee, 

The  din  and  hurry  of  the  busiest  days 
Seem  only  a  translucent  veil, 
Through  which  I  see  thy  form  as  in  the  clouds 
Forever  near." 

So  through  all  the  phases  of  this  new  and  unaccustomed 
life  the  image  of  Iphigenia  was  ever  before  his  soul.  This 
continues  for  a  whole  month  in  Venice,  until  the  middle 
of  October,  when  he  proceeds  to  Rome. 

Goethe  was  now  convinced  that  he  was  doing  the  final 
work  on  the  drama ;  and  yet  when  he  left  Venice  "  Iphige- 
nia," though  so  many  times  rewritten  and  copied,  was  as 
unfinished  as  before,  and  must  still  farther  accompany  him. 
Why,  indeed  ? 

While  in  Venice  Goethe  was  overwhelmed  with  the  fol- 
lowing thought,  which  as  regards  this  play,  was  a  wholly 
strange  one.  Sitting  in  the  theatre  at  San  Crisostomo,  he 
begins  suddenly  to  consider  how  he  should  perform  his 
"  Iphigenia  "  with  this  troupe  and  before  this  public.  On 
the  same  day  he  writes :  "  I  have  not  been  able  to  pro- 
duce one  verse  for  my  '  Iphigenia,'  "  — yet  this  very  day  he 
had  hoped  to  finish  the  work. 

He  leaves  Venice  without  sending  the  manuscript 
home.  The  city  had  been  still  too  near  the  boundaries 
of  Germany  ;  he  does  not  wholly  cut  himself  off  from 
Weimar,  until,  travelling  in  the  direction  of  Bologna,  he 
enters  the  heart  of  Italy.  The  past  grows  more  indis- 


300  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

tirict:  Iphigenia  alone  remains  true  to  him,  as  if  she  were 
the  only  thing  he  had  saved  out  of  the  great  shipwreck. 
In  a  wholly  new  form,  however,  she  now  comes  suddenly 
before  his  mind.  Tauris  also  is  lost  in  the  mist,  and 
another  landscape  discloses  itself.  Iphigenia  is  at  Del- 
phi. Seated  in  the  carriage  which  brings  him  to  Bologna, 
he  is  surprised  .by  finding  his  imagination  filled  with  new 
thoughts  and  pictures.  Electra  is  now  to  be  introduced. 
"  There  is  a  recognition  in  the  fifth  act,"  he  writes  to 
Frau  von  Stein, "  over  which  I  have  wept  like  a  child." 

Yet  this  too  passes  away  from  his  soul  like  a  dream, 
but  only  later  to  arise  again.  A  fresh  experience  awaits 
him  in  Bologna. 

Of  a  picture  which  represents  Saint  Agatha,  he  writes: 

"  The  artist  has  given  her  the  health  and  strength  of 
maidenhood  without  any  coarseness.  I  have  noted  the 
picture  well,  and  as  she  stands  before  my  imagination  shall 
read  to  her  my  '  Iphigenia,'  and  not  permit  my  heroine  to 
say  anything  which  this  saint  might  not  utter." 

With  this  the  fate  of  the  piece  was  decided.  Again  it 
was  plain  that  all  the  recent  work  upon  it  had  been  only 
preliminary  steps.  Before  the  Bologna  picture  Goethe 
realized  that  Frau  von  Stein  was  no  longer  the  only  in- 
spiration of  his  poem ;  that  other  forms  beside  hers,  with 
potent  influence,  had  begun  to  assert  their  mastery  over 
him.  Goethe's  thoughts  had  hitherto  been  too  much  at 
home  in  Germany :  the  nearer  he  came  to  Rome,  the 
clearer  it  became  to  him  why  he  had  not  been  able  to 
finish  his  work.  In  the  theatre  of  San  Crisostomo  the 
idea  dawned  upon  him,  in  relation  to  his  drama,  that  be- 
side that  amateur  theatre  at  Weimar,  and  beside  those 
who  played  upon  its  boards,  a  classic  stage  of  noble  kind 
for  which  he  had  written  before  the  Weimar  time  might 


NEW   INSPIRATION   FOR   "  IPHIGENIA."        301 

yet  have  claims  on  his  work ;  and  before  that  picture  in 
Bologna,  that  the  figure  of  his  heroine  must  be  drawn 
with  other  lines  than  those  in  which  the  image  of  his 
friend  was  engraven  on  his  soul.  The  grandest  work 
on  the  drama  had  only  now  become  possible.  Disen- 
gaged from  the  earth  to  which  it  had  hitherto  clung, 
it  had  been  transplanted  into  classic  soil  that  it  might 
be  fully  unfolded.  Nowhere  but  in  Rome  could  that 
have  happened. 


302  LIFE  AND   TIMES   OF   GOETHE. 


LECTURE  XVI. 

BOMB. 

ON  the  1st  of  November,  1786,  Goethe  writes  for  the 
first  time  from  Rome  to  Frau  von  Stein  (even  she 
had  not  been  permitted  to  know  beforehand  the  aim  of 
his  journey).  The  letter  begins  :  "  I  have  at  last  reached 
the  metropolis  of  the  world." 

What  does  Goethe  here  call  "  the  world,"  and  what 
does  he  mean  by  "  the  metropolis  "  ? 

In  these  words  we  are  made  conscious  that  Goethe, 
from  our  point  of  view,  already  belongs  to  a  past  world. 
As  Homer  was  the  first  great  phenomenon  of  the  Eu- 
ropean world  in  contradistinction  to  the  Asiatic,  within 
whose  boundaries  the  earliest  chapter  in  the  history  of 
mankind  was  unrolled,  so  Goethe  may  be  considered  as 
the  last  great  phenomenon  of  this  European  world  ;  since, 
through  the  coming  in  of  steam  and  electricity  which  an- 
nihilate distance,  all  the  five  parts  of  the  earth  are  now 
consolidated  into  one  common  basis  for  the  further  devel- 
opment of  humanity.  It  no  longer  suffices  for  the  study 
of  the  current  politics  of  the  hour  to  consult  the  map  of 
Europe,  —  they  must  be  studied  from  the  globe. 

It  is  only  since  we  have  realized  that  the  past  is  set 
aside,  and  things  by  new  paths  strive  after  new  aims,  that 
we  have  been  in  a  position  to  consider  what  I  may  call 
European  history  as  a  fact  accomplished,  of  whose  begin- 
ning and  end  we  can  speak. 


THE    GEEAT   WORLD-EMIGRATIONS.  303 

"We  know  how  America  was  discovered  and  colonized  ; 
how  the  German  races  went  over  and  settled  in  the  North, 
and  the  Romanic  in  the  South.  They  planted  themselves 
firmly  on  the  sea-coasts,  and  it  was  only  by  degrees  that 
their  small  stray  settlements  expanded  into  countries. 
The  contests  of  the  Germans  and  Romans  which  stirred 
all  Europe  were  participated  in  by  their  respective  colo- 
nists in  America ;  but  ever  broadened  their  lands,  ever 
deeper  penetrated  the  settlers  into  the  western  wilderness, 
ever  greater  became  the  mass  of  indigenous  people,  until 
we  see  individual  countries  and  peoples  arise,  forming  in 
less  than  four  hundred  years  independent  nationalities, 
whose  politics  were  free  from  European  relations,  and  to 
whom  the  European  himself  now  goes  over  as  a  stranger. 

So  there  were  times,  I  conclude,  when  Europe  and  Africa 
lay  beside  Asia  as  the  great  unknown  continents  of  the 
West ;  times  when  the  earliest  colonists  of  the  Nile  val- 
ley came  over  from  Asia,  bringing  with  them  that  oldest 
of  old  Egyptian  art  which  distinguishes  the  first  thousand 
years  of  this  people,  and  which  after  the  reign  of  Hyksos 
was  lost  never  again  to  be  attained.  After  this,  in  indef- 
inite periods  of  time,  the  progenitors  of  the  later  Greeks, 
coining  from  Asia  Minor,  pressed  forward  over  the  isles 
to  the*  Greek  peninsula  ;  while  more  to  the  north  by  the 
inland  route  Celtic,  Germanic,  and  Sclavic  races  spread 
over  the  broad  plains  of  Central  Europe. 

We  know  neither  when  nor  how  this  happened.  We 
know  not  whether  democratic  masses,  or  stray  cavaliers 
roaming  in  search  of  adventure,  or  confederate  families 
of  nobles  preceded  with  their  followers.  We  know  not  if 
Celts  and  Germans  brought,  as  ancient  feuds  from  their 
old  manors,  the  material  for  the  eternal  war  which  has 
raged  in  the  Rhine  valley  since  historic  time.  We  know 
not  in  what  order  things  developed  themselves,  —  whether 


304  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF   GOETHE. 

the  ancient  pre-historic  inhabitants,  whose  highly  valued 
skulls  are  so  keenly  cross-examined  to-day,  were  exter- 
minated or  made  slaves,  or  whether  a  mutual  understand- 
ing was  arrived  at,  and  whether  and  how  mixed  races 
arose.  We  know  not  how  long  a  time  these  Asiatic  set- 
tlers on  European  soil  needed  before  they  felt  themselves 
to  be  denizens  of  a  part  of  the  world  which  was  to  have 
its  own  independent  life  separate  from  that  of  Asia.  To 
create  this  feeling,  it  was  essential  that  in  the  eyes  of 
the  Celts,  Germans,  Sclaves,  and  Greeks  the  people  and 
their  home  should  become  indivisible  factors ;  that  the 
Germans  should  not  be  able  to  identify  themselves  with- 
out their  woods  and  swamps,  and  that  if  transferred  to 
any  other  zone,  even  to  their  original  Asiatic  home,  they 
would  degenerate. 

The  oldest  historical  epoch  in  European  history  is  the 
Greek.  But  this  was  only  visibly  unrolled  upon  European 
soil.  The  eyes  of  the  Greeks  were  turned  back  to  Asia, 
and  they  felt  that  as  inhabitants  of  the  extreme  West  they 
were  still  a  part  of  their  old  native  land.  Xerxes  only 
wished  to  recover  an  apostate  province  ;  and  to  ^Eschylus 
himself,  while  he  celebrates  the  victory  of  the  Greeks 
over  the  Persians,  Asia  is  still  the  old  mother.  Alexan- 
der the  Great  hoped  to  conquer  Persia :  what  did  he*  care 
for  Europe  ?  This  identification  of  Greece  with  Asia 
characterizes  so  strongly  the  first  European  era  that  it 
distinguishes  at  once  the  difference  between  the  sway  of 
the  Greeks  and  of  the  Romans. 

With  Rome  European  history  properly  begins,  and  with 
Rome  it  ends.  Only  from  the  moment  when  Rome  becomes 
conspicuous  do  we  comprehend  men  and  things  ;  only  from 
this  time  are  we  able  to  apply  the  standards  which  are  in 
use  to-day.  Everything  Greek,  even  in  the  periods  of 
most  authentic  history,  wears  a  somewhat  fabulous 


BOM  AN   AND    GREEK   HISTORY   COMPARED.     305 

aspect.  Even  where  the  records  before  us  are  cut  in 
bronze  and  stone,  the  prefatory  words  should  stand, "  Once 
upon  a  time  there  was."  We  willingly  believe  the  things, 
but  cease  to  apprehend  them  when  the  story  halts.  We 
seem  to  hear  only  tales  of  vague  wanderings  and  advent- 
ures. Alcibiades  is  the  veriest  prince  in  the  Fairy  Tale 
compared  with  Caesar,  who,  with  so  much  that  is  black  in 
him,  yet  stands  before  us  in  such  a  clear  white  light. 
The  Greeks  were  even  in  practical  affairs  visionaries,  and 
apparently  governed  by  whims.  It  is  often  impossible 
to  draw  the  line  between  gods  and  men.  A  faint  echo 
of  an  earlier  primitive  conception  of  creation  seems  to 
float  before  us,  awakening  the  same  strange  feeling  we 
have  when  looking  at  the  remains  of  animals  and  ves- 
tiges of  palm-trees  under  which  they  roved,  which  have 
been  exhumed  from  the  German  mountains  and  caverns : 
we  hold  them  in  our  hands  and  cannot  doubt  their  genu- 
ineness, but  lay  them  aside  as  something  that  after  all 
has  no  connection  with  our  native  land.  This  unfamiliar 
element  in  the  Greek  character  we  never  overcome.  It 
is  said  that,  as  the  last  token  of  negro  descent  in  those 
who  have  become  otherwise  perfectly  white,  the  moon  in 
the  finger-nail  of  the  quadroons  of  America  remains  dark  ; 
this  tiny  spot  on  the  body  betrays  the  original  African 
home,  where  man  stood  on  a  somewhat  lower  plane.  In 
the  same  way  Homer  and  Plato,  Aristotle  and  Thucydides, 
or  Phidias  and  Pindar,  may  seem  ever  so  near  akin  to  us ; 
yet  there  is  always  a  little  moon  on  the  finger-nail  re- 
minding us  of  the  ichor,  the  blood  of  the  gods,  of  which 
the  one  last  drop  was  infused  into  the  veins  of  the  Greeks. 
But  this  fabulous  element  was  wholly  wanting  in  the  Ro- 
mans. They  bear  no  trace  of  mythical  descent,  and  are 
recognized  from  the  first  moment  as  politicians,  jurists, 
soldiers,  magistrates,  and  merchants.  Their  virtues  and 

20 


306  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

their  vices  lie  open  to  us  without  poetical  varnish.  They 
needed  neither  poet  nor  artist ;  and  no  real  poet  or  artist 
was  found,  of  his  own  free  will,  among  them.  By  these 
Romans  for  three  thousand  years  the  drama  of  European 
history  was  played,  whose  last  act  had  just  reached  its 
closing  verses  when  Goethe  entered  Rome,  —  without  a 
suspicion  indeed  how  soon  after  his  time  the  great  spec- 
tacle would  be  ended  and  the  lights  extinguished.  But 
just  to  have  heard  even  these  last  verses  on  the  spot  was 
enough  for  Goethe ! 

The  history  of  Rome  is  our  world-history.  Between 
the  already  ancient  States  which  had  sprung  up  in  Italy 
in  the  earliest  European-Egyptian  epoch  some  new  and 
energetic  people  of  unknown  origin  planted  themselves, 
selecting  for  their  home  an  unapproachable  spot.  This 
happened  three  or  four  hundred  years  before  the  time  of 
Alexander  the  Great.  Over  half  a  thousand  years  this 
Rome  needed  in  order  to  come  to  its  full  power.  In  the 
unhealthy  swamps  of  the  Tiber  banks  these  first  settlers 
sought  a  home,  where  nobody  disputed  their  possession, 
but  from  the  beginning  showed  themselves  impelled  by 
the  same  stern  principles  to  which  they  adhered  to 
the  last,  —  bloody  power  without,  bloody  order  within. 
What  we  observe  as  the  characteristic  of  Roman  history 
(which  means  the  European)  is,  that  the  inhabitants  of 
this  town  absorbed  into  it  everything  within  their  reach ; 
until,  in  the  course  of  a  thousand  years  after  its  founda- 
tion, all  the  nations  of  the  world,  who  could  be  seen  or 
clutched  from  this  centre,  were  converted  either  into  par- 
ticipators in  its  greatness  or  subjects  of  its  power. 

Rome  was  not  at  its  foundation  the  principal  city  of  a 
people,  but  a  place  guarded  by  walls,  an  abode  of  homeless 
men  whose  origin  became  speedily  effaced  upon  Roman 
soil ;  and  it  never  quite  lost  this  character.  So  long  as 


DEVELOPMENT    OF   ROMAN   HISTORY.  307 

Rome  continued  to  exist,  it  attracted  to  itself  all  the  strong 
foreign  element  it  could  make  serviceable.  From  an  ever- 
increasing  circumference  everything  streamed  toward  it, 
and  every  newcomer  was  drawn  within  the  pale  of  its 
political  interests.  In  the  degree  in  which  men  were 
needed,  it  was  made  easier  to  the  stranger  to  become  a 
Roman  citizen ;  until  we  finally  see,  as  the  world  sover- 
eignty of  the  Romans  becomes  a  fact,  not  merely  an  indi- 
vidual nation  on  its  own  territory,  but  a  monstrous  mass 
of  civil  and  military  officials,  recognizing  only  the  single 
interest  of  Rome,  and  above  whom,  controlling  both  ele- 
ments, was  a  common  jurisdiction  uniting  them  all  under 
the  name  of  Roman  citizens.  Only  in  matters  apper- 
taining to  the  public  service  was  the  Roman  language  and 
religion  necessary ;  beyond  this  every  Roman  might  think 
and  speak  as  he  chose,  and  pray  to  whom  he  would. 
Every  form  of  worship  was  to  be  found  in  Rome,  —  Etrus- 
can, Greek,  Egyptian,  Jewish,  and  all  with  equal  license. 
This  is  the  history  of  the  first  thousand  years  of  Rome 
and  Europe. 

The  annals  of  the  second  millennium  contain  the  history 
of  the  decline  of  this  power,  but  at  the  same  time  of  the 
rise  of  a  new  and  again  European  Roman  sovereignty, 
growing  up  on  the  same  spot,  out  of  the  ruins  of  the 
former,  indeed  almost  before  this  had  fallen  into  ruins, 
and  proceeding  on  the  same  principles,  while  its  power 
was  extended  over  a  much  wider  circumference.  Rome, 
after  having.through  many  centuries  maintained  its  high 
position  as  the  seat  of  the  all-mighty  Imperial  power,  had 
finally  been  drained  of  the  last  drop  of  the  vital  sap  with 
which  it  had  so  long  steadily  renewed  its  strength.  The 
people  who  unsubdued,or  excluded  as  useless  material,were 
settled  round  the  borders  of  the  Empire,  now  began  like 
vultures  to  hang  about  the  expiring  body,  which  was  soon, 


308  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

as  they  felt,  to  become  their  prey.  These  people  were 
thrilled  with  a  presentiment  that  sooner  or  later  the  boun- 
daries of  the  Holy  Roman  Empire  would  be  open  to  them. 
They  pressed  forward  more  and  more  impetuously ;  and 
ever  more  frequently  must  the  Romans,  instead  of  con- 
quering, consent  to  treat  with  them.  But  so  natural  was 
authority  to  the  Romans,  so  inborn  their  qualification  to 
be  masters,  that,  after  their  self-begotten  strength  had 
long  been  exhausted,  they  recruited  their  army  upon  the 
ranks  of  these  invaders,  and  fighting  them  with  their  own 
people  created  a  new  power  out  of  their  very  weakness. 
With  an  ever-increasing  dexterity  the  Roman  policy  or- 
ganized the  hostility  of  the  barbarians  toward  one  an- 
other for  the  protection  of  Rome.  But,  during  the  cen- 
tury in  which  cunning  took  the  place  of  power,  the  army, 
which  almost  wholly  consisted  of  Germans,  rose  to  be  a 
political  power,  with  an  organization  of  its  own  ;  and  thus 
by  a  natural  transition  the  Germans  became  ever  more 
and  more  powerful,  until  in  the  revolution  of  centuries  a 
German  Empire  was  established  in  Rome  in  place  of  the 
old  Empire.  Here,  however,  only  one  factor  had  been 
changed,  —  the  German  element  had  assumed  a  Roman 
form.  Rome  remained  the  capital  of  the  world.  The  old 
harshness  and  bloody,  unrelenting  severity  continued 
to  exist.  The  ruling  principle,  to  draw  all  energetic  men 
into  Rome  and  make  them  Romans,  was  carried  out  as 
before,  and  with  the  same  result ;  only  instead  of  a  ju- 
ridical community  whose  fountain-head  was  the  law  as  de- 
veloped in  Rome,  by  degrees  another  community  sprang 
up,  based  on  the  dogmas  of  the  Church  as  formalized  in 
Rome.  It  is  marvellous  with  what  persistency  the  old 
idea  repeats  itself;  so  that  we  see  in  the  saddest  times, 
when  Rome  was  demoralized,  nearly  destroyed,  and  void  of 
inhabitants,  it  yet  possessed,  through  the  faith  in  the  mis- 


THE  THREE  ROMAN  MILLENNIUMS.      309 

sion  of  the  city,  such  a  vitality  as  to  give  to  its  ruins  the 
same  attractive  power  as  had  belonged  to  its  earlier  gran- 
deur. Rome  remains  the  centre  of  the  world,  the  head 
of  the  world,  the  wonder  of  the  world,  the  golden  Impe- 
rial Rome,  —  aurece  arces  Romce  !  Who  enters  it  is  be- 
guiled into  resigning  freedom  and  country ;  and  what 
ancient  Rome  never  achieved,  —  the  entire  subjugation 
of  the  Germanic  lands  (England  and  Scandinavia  in- 
cluded),—  is  now  accomplished  by  the  Roman  bishops 
who  convert  these  countries  into  provinces  of  the  Roman 
Church.  The  fallen  palaces  of  the  emperors  and  temples 
of  the  gods  rise  anew  as  palaces  and  churches  of  popes ; 
and  over  the  debris  of  the  ruined  streets  new  streets  are 
laid  out,  and  this  power  commanding  in  the  old  place  fi- 
nally succeeds  in  the  unheard  of.  Confronting  the  newly 
added  German  provinces,  birthplace  of  the  emperors 
now  reigning  in  Rome,  it  consolidates  the  scattered  in- 
habitants of  the  old  Roman  Empire  into  a  veritable  na- 
tion, —  the  Romanic,  —  overthrows  the  dominion  of  the 
new  Germanic  emperors,  delivers  the  papacy  wholly  into 
Roman  hands,  and  thus  accomplishes  in  the  fullest  sense 
what  had  been  begun  by  the  old  robbers  in  the  swamps 
of  the  Tiber.  This  last  revolution  is  the  substance  of  the 
third  millennium  of  Roman  history  ;  but  with  this  all  pos- 
sibility of  the  further  historical  greatness  of  Rome  ended. 
This  millennium  was  its  most  brilliant  one.  Do  not  let  us 
be  deceived  by  the  history  of  republican  Rome,  or  of  im- 
perial antique  Rome :  modern  papal  Rome  has  been  far 
greater. 

The  Rome  of  the  first  and  second  thousand  years  pro- 
duced no  art  or  poetry  of  its  own.  The  wild  agglomerate 
of  people  had  not  changed  the  soil  on  which  they  lived. 
Greek  artists  and  scholars,  even  though  numbered  at 
that  time  among  the  inhabitants  of  a  Roman  province, 


310  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

filled  Rome  with  Grecian  art ;  but  no  specific  Roman 
work  of  art  was  ever  achieved,  nor  even  a  genuine  Ro- 
man book,  with  the  exception  of  the  Corpus  Juris  and 
the  writings  of  the  Apostolic  Fathers.  All  the  Roman 
authors  and  poets,  from  Plautus  to  Pliny,  only  repeated 
Greek  sayings  in  Latin  forms.  But  in  the  times  when 
the  second  millennium  of  the  city  was  passing  into  the 
third,  —  which,  regarded  from  a  one-sided  political  point  of 
view,  seemed  the  time  of  its  deepest  decay,  —  the  Italians, 
Spaniards,  and  French  began  so  completely  to  identify 
themselves  with  the  soil  on  which  they  dwelt  as  to  form 
separate  independent  nations,  —  unitedly  the  Romanic 
nations,  —  who,  each  in  its  own  language  revealed  indi- 
vidual creative  power.  But  here  also  was  required  the 
slow  growth  of  centuries,  although  the  progress  was 
visible  throughout.  While  the  Greek-speaking  part  of 
Europe  separated  from  Rome,  again  attached  itself  to 
Asia,  and,  mentally  unproductive,  was  lying,  as  it  is  to- 
day, a  great  vegetating  mass  between  Europe  and  Asia 
(although  signs  of  something  like  an  awakening  more 
and  more  appear),  Europe  developed  a  creative  life,  and 
Dante  is  to  be  regarded  as  the  first  genius  of  this  Ro- 
manic world.  Dante  is  what  Homer  was  to  the  Greek 
world.  From  Dante's  time  the  intellectual  life  of  Europe 
gains  ever  greater  reinforcements,  and  in  and  about  Rome 
(Rome  being  always  the  main  point)  art  and  science 
flourish  to  a  degree  which  exceeds  all  ever  attained  under 
the  old  Empire.  Italy,  Spain,  and  France  rival  each 
other  in  the  production  of  masterpieces ;  the  defection  of 
Germany,  England,  and  the  Netherlands  does  not  lessen 
its  ascendancy ;  and  not  until  the  life  of  this  fresh  Ro- 
manic spring  has  passed  into  its  autumn  and  winter  does 
it  begin  to  change  and  decline.  We  of  to-day  are  wit- 
nesses to  its  downfall.  Passing  over  the  Romanic  world, 


HOME  AS  GOETHE  FOUND  IT.        311 

which  to  the  Germanic  races  is  no  longer  the  world, 
but  only  one  province  in  the  great  realm  of  humanity, 
we  have  made  America  and  Asia  the  immense  stage  on 
which  to  carry  out  the  further  destiny  of  mankind.  The 
Romanians  with  Rome  are  left  to  themselves.  Their 
power  is  not  quite  destroyed,  but  other  powers  hold  the 
balance.  Rome,  as  a  city,  exists  to-day  only  because  it 
happens  to  be  there.  As  in  Venice  we  have  long  been 
accustomed  to  look  upon  the  receptacle  of  the  big  gov- 
ernment machine  there,  though  whole  and  freshly  var- 
nished, as  nothing  better  than  a  money-making  institu- 
tion for  custodians  and  hired  servants,  so  we  find  Rome 
changed  under  our  eyes  into  a  colossal  show-place,  to 
which  the  people  repair  from  all  quarters  of  the  globe. 
Crowded  hotels  and  empty  palaces  are  the  principal 
features.  What  never  before  has  been  witnessed  in  the 
course  of  human  history  is  taking  place  there  to-day.  At 
the  visible  close  of  an  epoch  of  three  thousand  years,  its 
magnificent  impressive  edifices  are  being  transformed  into 
mere  historical  decorations. 

Goethe  had  also  foreseen  this.  All  that  to  the  genera- 
tion contemporary  with  his  declining  years  was  incom- 
prehensible in  him  grew  out  of  his  clearly  expressed 
expectation  of  revolutions  in  the  latter  half  of  our  cen- 
tury, involving  changes  in  comparison  with  which  the 
political  attempts  of  his  own  time  appeared  to  him  worth- 
less and  insignificant.  But  in  1786,  in  Rome,  he  wit- 
nessed the  last  days  of  the  third  millennium  without  a 
suspicion  at  that  time  that  this  glory  must  so  soon  come 
to  an  end.  Not  the  slightest  tremor  among  the  people 
announced  the  approach  of  the  French  revolution.  The 
struggle  of  the  American  colonists  with  England  was  like 
some  Quixotic  adventure  seen  from  afar.  Europe  was 
as  quiet  as  if  it  had  the  repose  of  centuries  yet  before  it. 


312  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

Gilded  as  with  the  splendors  of  an  eternal  sunset,  the 
city  lay  before  Goethe  which  to  Raphael,  Michael  Angelo, 
and  an  endless  series  of  great  men  had  become  a  second 
home,  and  which  was  to  be  the  same  to  him. 

Rome  still  ruled  without  any  visible  decline  of  its 
power.  The  French,  German,  and  Italian  clergy  were 
each  in  their  own  countries  in  full  possession  of  their 
accumulated  estates  and  revenues,  whose  per  cent  went 
on  to  Rome.  Rome  was  the  centre  of  educated  Europe. 
The  refractory  Protestants  of  North  Germany,  the  Eng- 
lish and  Scandinavians,  felt  this  power  just  as  much  as 
the  Romanic  nations.  From  his  youth  the  longing  for 
Italy  had  lived  in  Goethe's  soul.  Three  times  he  had 
started  to  go  there,  and  at  last  the  desire  grew  so  intense 
as  to  make  him  wretched :  he  felt  like  one  recovering 
from  some  terrible  illness  after  he  had  become  acquainted 
with  Rome.  Goethe's  prosaic,  pedantic  father  had  had 
his  heart  thawed  in  Italy,  and  for  the  only  time  in  his 
life  felt  himself  inspired.  He,  therefore,  in  his  time  in- 
sisted on  sending  Goethe  to  Rome,  also  in  the  hope  of 
dissuading  him  from  Weimar.  Herder's  finest  historical 
essays  are  those  in  which  he  portrays  the  civilizing  power 
of  the  Roman  Church  ;  Lessing  was  grounded  upon  an- 
tiquity and  the  Renaissance  ;  and  Winckelmann,  born  and 
educated  far  in  the  Protestant  North,  submitted  to  the 
formulas  of  the  Roman  Church  in  order  to  get  to  Rome. 
Rome  and  Italy  were  full  of  Germans,  who  sought  and 
found  there  what  no  other  place  could  offer  them.  Well 
might  Goethe  write  to  Frau  von  Stein  :  "  Yes  ;  I  have 
at  last  reached  the  metropolis  of  the  world." 

Goethe  was  surrounded  by  a  wealth  of  historical  reminis- 
cences, which  this  city  unfolded  before  him  as  in  a  dream. 
The  fate  of  its  people  passed  before  his  eyes  in  an  endless 
succession  of  pictures.  Even  to-day,  Rome  awakens  such 


HOME,    THE   WORLD-UNIVERSITY.  313 

dreams  in  the  minds  of  all  capable  of  being  so  stirred. 
What  a  sensation,  now  that  the  dust  and  rubbish  of  a 
thousand  years  are  cleared  away,  to  feel  once  more  the 
old  well-worn  pavement  of  the  Forum  under  one's  feet, 
over  which  have  passed  so  many  German  chiefs,  emperors, 
and  slaves,  either  as  conquerors  or  conquered  ! 

But  only  dreams  could  at  that  time  excite  Goethe. 
The  past  alone  stood  before  his  view  ;  the  present  did  not 
seem  to  him  great  enough  to  create  anything  worthy  to 
be  looked  upon  as  a  continuation  of  these  achievements 
of  former  times.  He  did  not  dream  of  the  revolution  so 
close  at  hand,  nor  yet  of  the  conflicts  of  to-day :  at  that 
time  the  outcast  Jesuits  flying  in  every  direction  found  a 
protector  in  Frederick  the  Great.  The  world  of  which 
Rome  was  the  metropolis  in  Goethe's  eyes  was  a  Europe 
striving  toward  the  development  of  the  highest  civil- 
ization, whose  people,  free  from  envy,  lived  together  in 
peaceful  relations.  There  was  no  freer  or  better  place  for 
artists  or  for  literary  work  conceivable  than  Rome  at  that 
time.  The  palaces  of  the  cardinals  were  places  of  resort 
for  the  learned  and  gifted,  no  matter  whence  they  came ; 
while  the  city  was  filled  with  a  stream  of  distinguished 
people  coming  and  going  from  all  quarters  of  the  globe. 
One  should  not  read  only  Goethe's  letters  to  gain  a  true 
conception  of  this  ;  Goethe  revised  his  "  Italian  Journey  " 
in  later  years,  when  a  freer  air  had  long  blown  over  Ger- 
many itself.  One  should  read  Winckelmann's  letters  to 
Berendis,  if  the  difference  is  to  be  appreciated  which  at  that 
time  existed  between  Rome  and  Germany,  —  the  capacity 
to  enjoy  and  let  others  enjoy,  which  at  that  time  seemed  to 
exist  nowhere  but  on  this  one  spot  of  earth  ;  the  affluence 
of  life,  without  one  faint  note  of  that  artificially  created 
agitation  which  from  Italy  to-day  vibrates  on  our  ears. 
One  could  think  and  speak  aloud  what  one  thought. 


314  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

Everything  was  allowed,  with  perhaps  the  single  excep- 
tion, according  to  Cardinal  Albani,  of  erecting  a  pulpit  in 
the  Spanish  Pldza  for  the  preaching  of  Antichrist.  No 
hail-storm  for  a  hundred  years  had  broken  the  windows  of 
the  enormous  dome  of  this  mental  hot-house.  The  third 
millennium  of  the  city  seemed  lengthening  out  to  a  never- 
ending  period  of  peaceful  sovereignty,  —  Rome,  a  world- 
university  for  mature  men  of  all  nations  ;  a  motley  crowd 
in  which  many  languages  were  spoken,  all  subordinate  to 
the  Italian  ;  where  every  newcomer  was  welcomed,  and 
where,  untrammelled  by  names  or  titles  or  outward  dis- 
tinctions of  any  kind,  each  pursued  his  own  way  and  was 
valued  only  for  himself.  Goethe  was  thirty-seven  years 
old.  He  called  Rome  his  second  Academic  Franchise. 

It  was  indeed  to  him  like  exchanging  the  narrow  con- 
fined life  of  a  school-boy  for  the  free  breath  of  a  more 
expanded  existence.  Goethe  had  until  now  only  gone 
from  one  paltry  provincial  town  to  another.  He  had 
neither  been  in  Paris,  London,  nor  Vienna.  Dresden  and 
Berlin  were  the  largest  places  he  had  visited,  and  these 
only  as  a  flying  traveller.  Leipsic,  Frankfort,  Cologne, 
and  Strasburg  were  narrow  old  burgher  towns,  shut  in 
by  walls  and  ditches ;  while  Berlin  only  drew  from  him 
the  comment  that  "  the  bigger  the  world  the  nastier  the 
farce."  Goethe  had  indeed  here  and  there  come  in  con- 
tact with  the  ruling  powers  of  the  world,  but  he  had  seen 
next  to  nothing  of  the  actual  universe  of  men  and  things 
previous  to  his  arrival  in  Rome.  Whatever  Goethe  had 
seen  earlier  he  had  been  able  to  picture  to  himself  before- 
hand ;  but  this  Roman  life  came  to  him  as  something  ut- 
terly new  and  foreign.  An  unlimited  field  for  mental 
development  opened  before  him ;  added  to  which,  things 
most  worthy  to  be  known  lay  piled  in  vast  masses  at  his 
feet  and  all  around  him.  Instead  of  single  miserable 


WINCKELMAISTN'S  LETTERS.  315 

casts  from  the  antique,  to  get  a  sight  of  which  he  had 
often  been  obliged  to  travel,  he  was  now  transported  into 
the  midst  of  the  wealth  of  the  yet  unpillaged  villas  and 
palaces  of  the  Vatican,  with  Raphael  and  Michael  Angelo 
in  close  proximity,  as  the  noblest  refreshment  after  his 
studies,  for  his  own  work  continued  to  be  of  undisputed 
importance  ;  added  to  this  a  free,  agreeable,  social  inter- 
course, and  no  master  over  him  as  at  home,  who  might 
command  him  at  any  hour.  All  this  must  be  taken  into 
account  in  order  to  understand  the  rapture  with  which 
life  in  Rome  inspired  Goethe.  Truly,  for  the  first  time  in 
this  world  he  was  wholly  his  own  master.  He  was  not 
filled  with  the  artificial  enthusiasm,  the  empty,  affected 
intoxication,  created  by  an  over-excited  aesthetic  sensibil- 
ity, which  so  many  travellers  of  the  present  day,  guide- 
book in  hand,  think  it  to  be  their  duty  as  educated  people 
to  experience  ;  but  in  him  it  was  the  natural  delight  of  a 
man  who,  after  long  repression,  feels  himself  for  the  first 
time  in  his  proper  element.  At  last  he  could  abandon 
himself  to  his  impulse  to  go  into  the  universal,  with  all 
it  implied. 

To  see  the  simplicity  and  genuineness  of  this  feeling  re- 
flected as  in  a  mirror,  we  have  only  to  recall  Winckelmann, 
who  had  a  similar  experience  in  Rome.  With  heavenly 
satisfaction  Winckelmann  had,  thirty  years  earlier  than 
Goethe,  made  himself  at  home  in  Rome.  His  letters 
express  much  more  forcibly  than  Goethe's  this  exhila- 
ration at  finding  himself  in  this  land  of  freedom.  All 
Goethe's  letters,  even  the  most  confidential,  have  a  cer- 
tain form  and  stateliness,  owing  to  his  consciousness 
that  they  would  be  circulated ;  and  in  the  working  over 
and  preparing  them  to  be  printed  he  was  still  further 
affected  by  consideration  for  his  readers.  Winckelmann, 
as  an  obscure  writer,  poured  out  his  whole  heart  to  ob- 


316  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

scure  friends,  and  his  letters  have  been  printed  just  as 
they  flowed  from  his  pen. 

We  must  bear  in  mind  that  Goethe's  "  Italian  Jour- 
ney "  was  not  published  until  1817.  He  has  made  a  selec- 
tion from  his  letters,  put  together  parts  of  different  letters, 
and  given  to  the  whole  the  harmony  of  style  which  distin- 
guishes his  later  writings.  In  a  letter  from  Rome  before 
his  journey  to  Naples,  where  an  eruption  of  Vesuvius  was 
expected,  we  read  now :  "  May  kindly  Nature  give  us  a 
stream  of  lava !  I  am  full  of  impatience  to  have  a  per- 
sonal experience  of  these  great  things."  In  the  original 
letter  it  stood  thus :  "  Only  one  stream  of  lava,  and  I'll  ask 
for  nothing  more !  "  The  last  is  certainly  more  natural, 
and  expresses  the  same  thought.  This  book  has  been 
supposed  to  be  a  guide-book  in  which  the  traveller  might 
find  definite  information,  and  as  such  has  been  found 
fault  with  for  being  incomplete  and  unreliable.  But  only 
the  thoughtless  can  so  misunderstand  it ;  and  as  for  the 
correcting  and  revising  of  it,  this  has  certainly  given  to 
the  book  the  harmonious  tone  and  artistic  finish  which 
will  preserve  it  as  a  living  work  for  hundreds  of  years. 
It  bears  the  same  relation  to  the  original  letters  that 
"  Dichtungund  Wahrheit"  had  to  his  actual  experience. 
All  the  letters  which  have  not  been  tampered  with,  even 
if  they  seem  to  affect  us  more  deeply  still,  do  not  disclose 
to  us  the  higher  import  of  the  journey,  which  in  their 
present  rendering  constantly  breaks  forth. 

Goethe's  later  edition  of  Winckelmann's  letters,  to- 
gether with  the  biographical  notes  which  he  places  over 
them  in  their  proper  order,  —  thereby  inventing  a  wholly 
new  plan  for  a  biography,  —  is  his  tribute  of  gratitude  for 
all  that  Winckelmann  was  to  him  in  Rome.  Winckel- 
mann  had  been  the  first  to  speak  in  Germany  of  national 
Greek  art  in  such  a  manner  as  to  rouse  the  public,  and 


HE    BEGINS    REAL    WORK    IN    ROME.  317 

in  the  midst  of  the  paltry  affected  art  of  their  own  age 
to  give  them  a  conception  of  Greek  beauty.  Curiously 
enough,  all  the  enthusiasm  for  historical  art  which  Winck- 
elmann,  Lessing,  Herder,  and  later  Goethe  himself  created 
grew  up  without  a  sight  of  the  actual  works,  which  one 
would  naturally  suppose  must  have  come  first.  The  Ger- 
man public  caught  the  inspiration  from  the  words,  and  sup- 
plied the  sight  of  the  works  from  their  imagination,  as  if 
indeed  these  could  be  dispensed  with. 

At  the  house  of  the  painter  Oeser  in  Leipsic  Goethe 
first  heard  of  Winckelmann,  who  was  his  intimate  friend, 
and  he  had  afterward  felt  his  assassination  to  be  a  terrible 
blow  ;  but  only  in  Rome  did  he  fully  comprehend  the  value 
of  this  man's  work.  It  is  certain  that  without  Goethe's 
book  upon  Winckelmann  he  would  not  stand  before  us  in 
such  a  strong  light,  nor  should  we  see  so  clearly  with  what 
pains  and  with  what  success  he  made  himself  master  of 
ancient  art,  while  at  the  same  time  he  was  in  perfect  sym- 
pathy with  his  own  age. 

We  must,  however,  limit  ourselves  to  what  is  pertinent 
to  our  theme.  Winckelmann's  life  has  been  written  by 
Justi ;  and  while  Goethe,  from  personal  sympathy  with  all 
Winckelmann  accomplished,  dwells  upon  him  personally, 
Justi,  in  filling  out  this  single  portrait,  has  given  us  a 
picture  of  the  whole  period,  thereby  furnishing  a  brilliant 
background  to  Goethe's  work. 

We  need  not  follow  Goethe  through  the  complicated 
maze  of  his  Italian  life,  but  satisfy  ourselves  with  noting 
the  general  direction  of  his  progress.  Very  soon  after 
the  first  storm  of  surprise  had  abated,  Goethe,  to  whom 
it  was  natural  to  go  systematically  about  everything  he 
undertook,  found  it  necessary  to  make  a  plan  for  his  pro- 
ceedings. He  would  embrace  everything,  and  leave  out 
nothing.  But  all  could  not  be  done  at  one  stroke  ;  and, 


318  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

more  than  all,  he  must  bring  everything  into  accordance 
with  the  time  he  had  at  his  command,  while  he  was 
obliged  to  go  on  with  the  task  of  preparing  the  col- 
lected edition  of  his  works  for  publication.  Added  to 
this  was  his  old  desire  to  cultivate  his  own  hand  and  eye 
as  an  artist;  and,  lastly,  the  absolute  necessity  of  being 
surrounded  by  a  host  of  intellectual  men.  We  learn  from 
his  "  Italian  Journey  "  how  easy  it  was  for  him  to  gratify 
all  these  demands ;  how  he  devotes  himself  to  everything 
and  nevertheless  does  justice  to  each  in  particular.  With 
such  interpretation,  there  is  no  better  guide  for  a  long  stay 
in  Italy  than  this  book.  It  shows  us  that  without  a  cer- 
tain amount  of  solid  daily  work  to  convince  us  that  even 
in  the  midst  of  these  immense  works  of  art  we  are  still 
chiefly  dependent  on  our  own  efforts,  that  without  a  cer- 
tain calmness  and  steadiness  to  set  against  the  first  rush 
of  impressions,  and  without  the  sympathetic  co-operation 
of  congenial  friends,  we  cannot  expect  to  win  the  highest 
results  from  such  a  journey.  Goethe  likes  to  apply  to 
himself  the  simile  of  the  diver,  who  for  a  while  remains 
invisible  under  the  water  and  then  emerges  again.  I  will, 
therefore,  once  make  use  of  the  figure.  Goethe  dives  un- 
der in  this  new  element,  really  learns  to.swim  in  it,  fights 
with  the  waves  and  billows  around  him  and  advances 
slowly,  but  is  borne  onward  by  his  own  strong  arms  ;  while 
the  traveller  of  to-day  in  search  of  improvement  is  hur- 
ried over  the  waters  by  paid  rowers-,  and  sitting  high  and 
dry  imagines  he  has  had  a  great  experience  if  by  chance 
a  wave  dashes  over  the  edge  of  the  boat  into  his  face. 

Yet  one  thing  I  will  add.  This  Rome  of  Goethe's,  even 
in  its  outward  aspect,  no  longer  exists.  I  myself  may  say 
that  I  have  witnessed  the  very  last  glimmer  of  the  even- 
ing glow  in  which  Goethe  saw  Rome.  It  is  twenty  years 
since  I  entered  the  Porta  del  Popolo,  after  a  long  drive, 


ROME  PAST  AND  PRESENT.         319 

every  step  of  which  had  brought  me  nearer  and  nearer  to 
Rome,  and  saw  the  priests  and  monks  living  and  laboring 
still  with  full  authority  who  to-day,  as  poor  figurantes 
dismissed  from  the  service  of  a  burned-down  theatre,  still 
straggle  about  in  their  old  costumes. 

And  now  even  the  last  shadows  of  this  old  life  have 
vanished.  There  are  no  longer  any  cities  which,  as  cities, 
have  anything  individual  about  them  ;  even  Rome  has 
lost  this  character  of  city  par  excellence.  To-day  one 
enters  as  through  a-  gap  a  breach  in  the  walls,  and  in  a 
wholly  new  part  of  the  city,  to  find  himself  in  a  railway 
station  surrounded  by  newly-built  elegant  houses,  which 
might  just  as  well  belong  to  Berlin,  Vienna,  or  any  other 
modern  city.  From  there  one  hunts  up  "  old  Rome  "  as 
a  curiosity  lying  apart.  Formerly  we  were  taken  directly 
into  the  heart  of  the  old  city,  and  saw  ourselves  surrounded 
and  enclosed  by  it.  No  power  can  ever  recall  this  sen- 
sation ;  for  the  conditions  are  radically  changed  among 
which  men  now  dwell  upon  the  earth.  Every  place  is 
rummaged  over  in  Rome  to-day  ;  and  the  antique  subter- 
ranean city  is  laid  bare  and  exhibited  for  a  fee  to  the  cu- 
rious crowd,  while  the  palaces  either  secretly  or  openly 
offer  their  art-treasures  and  their  furniture  for  sale.  One 
goes  about  in  the  midst  of  this  colossal  chaffering,  and 
sees  at  the  same  time  the  official  buildings  of  the  new 
kingdom  rising  up  bald,  large,  and  tasteless,  planned  by 
some  unknown  architect,  without  one  critical  eye  deign- 
ing to  look  at  them  or  to  feel  hurt  by  their  disproportion. 
The  old  city  is  metamorphosed  ;  and  Rome  has  become 
a  plain  modern  collection  of  dwelling-houses,  like  other 
cities.  The  works  of  Raphael  and  Michael  Angelo,  the 
galleries  of  the  Vatican,  the  historical  reminiscences,  will 
never  lose  their  power.  Who  wanders  upon  the  ruins  01 
the  Palatinate,  now  covered  with  a  garden  of  laurel  and 


320  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

roses,  letting  the  warm  sun  play  about  him  there,  while 
letters  from  home  tell  of  cold  and  snow,  and  then  gazes 
upon  the  mountains  far  away  on  the  rim  of  the  distant  hor- 
izon, whose  outlines  from  time  immemorial  have  been  the 
same  as  to-day ;  who  in  sunlight  and  moonlight  hears 
the  rippling  murmur  of  the  Roman  fountains, —  who  can 
fail  to  enjoy  all  this  ;  who  ever  forget  it  ? 

But  the  soul  of  this  vast  organism  has  fled  ! 

The  Jesuits,  who  in  fancied  omnipotence  move  about 
to-day,  have  nothing  in  common  with  the  priests  of  the 
Gregories,  nor  with  the  cardinals  of  the  sixteenth  century, 
nor  yet  with  the  abbe's  of  the  eighteenth.  Who  would 
now  become  acquainted  with  Greek  art  goes  to  Greece  it- 
self, where  in  Olympia  works  are  being  exhumed  which 
give  a  better  idea  of  the  artistic  power  of  the  Greeks  than 
all  that  is  contained  in  Italian  museums ;  and  who  will 
become  acquainted  with  the  life  peculiar  to  each  nation 
goes  to  the  principal  cities  where  to-day  the  ruling  pow- 
ers of  the  people  are  manifest. 

Unless  we  keep  clearly  before  us  this  great  contrast,  we 
cannot  understand  either  Goethe's  enthusiasm  or  the  in- 
fluence which  Rome  had  upon  him. 


IPHIGENIA  "    FINISHED    IN    ROME.  321 


LECTURE  XVII. 

THE    END    OP   "  IPHIGENIA."    —  "  TASSO."  —  CHRTSTIANE.  — 
"  KOMAN   ELEGIES." 

WHEN  Goethe  had  finished  the  last  work  on  "  Iplii- 
genia  "  in  Rome,  it  was  a  matter  of  course  that 
the  piece  should  be  read  aloud :  all  his  works  are  writ- 
ten as  if  intended  for  the  single  aim  of  being  read  to 
friends,  and  Goethe  had  very  soon  drawn  a  social  circle 
around  him  there.  At  first,  indeed,  he  had  concealed 
his  name ;  he  wished  to  be  wholly  alone :  but  by  de- 
grees a  number  of  persons  had  gathered  about  him  in 
Rome  whom  he  influenced.  This  last  was  a  peculiar 
feature  in  his  intercourse  with  people.  He  needed  to  be 
surrounded  by  a  society  in  which  he  was  the  leading 
spirit ;  and  whoever  resisted  his  elevating  influence  must 
resign  all  intercourse  with  him. 

As  a  matter  of  course,  too,  a  woman  was  the  soul  of 
this  circle.  Goethe  had  here  found  the  painter  Angelica 
Kaufmann,  to  whom  this  rdle  was  allotted.  Angelica 
Kaufmann,  after  many  sad  experiences,  had  finally  gained 
a  distinguished  position.  She  was  esteemed  as  an  his- 
torical painter,  and  renowned  and  courted  as  a  portrait- 
painter.  She  made  much  money,  and  with  her  old  Ital- 
ian husband  entertained  in  her  own  house ;  for  which, 
as  is  well  known,  very  little  money  is  required  in  Rome, 
the  only  essential  being  a  suitable  room  and  personal 

21 


322  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

charms:  eating  and  drinking  each  one  provides  for  him- 
self. With  her  Goethe  found  the  comfort  of  a  home. 
She  took  many  pictures  of  him  at  this  time  which  are 
known,  and  also  painted  a  scene  from  his  "  Iphigenia," 
which  Goethe  speaks  of  in  terms  of  praise.  - 

Angelica  was  surely  not  in  her  lifetime  valued  either 
as  much  as  Rafael  Mengs  —  who,  as  the  German  hero 
among  the  painters  of  the  last  century,  was  placed  by 
Winckelmann  and  others  on  the  same  level  with  Raphael 
—  or  as  Battoni,  who  was  Mengs's  Italian  rival  of  high- 
est renown.  As  a  woman,  she  held  a  modest  position  ; 
yet  her  works,  though  less  strong  in  drawing  and 
modelling,  are  to-day  more  interesting  and  have  a  more 
intrinsic  vitality  than  those  of  either  Mengs  or  Battoni. 
As  a  woman,  it  was  to  her  advantage  that  the  whole  tone 
of  painting  in  her  time  was  rather  feminine  and  delicate, 
and  suited  to  pastel  rendering ;  for  the  time  had  not  ar- 
rived when  rnanly  genius  was  forced  to  raise  exhausted 
art  on  to  a  higher  plane.  We  to-day  recognize  instantly 
Angelica's  works  ;  we  feel  how  purely  she  looked  at 
Nature,  and  how  chaste  was  her  manner  of  represent- 
ing it.  Who  could  now  obtain  one  of  her  works  would 
seize  it  without  hesitation,  hang  it  in  a  good  place,  and 
surely  rejoice  in  its  possession  every  time  he  passed  be- 
fore it. 

At  Angelica's,  the  reading  of  the  at  last  finished 
"  Iphigenia  "  took  place.  The  poem  had  been  looked  for- 
ward to  with  eagerness,  a/id  the  flower  of  the  German 
colony  assembled  to  hear  the  distinguished  poet  himself 
read  his  work. 

Goethe  was  now  to  have  a  wholly  new  and  unlooked-for 
experience  :  the  public  received  coldly  this  work  of  whose 
inspiring  effect  long  years  of  experience  had  made  him 
perfectly  sure.  Goethe  tells  of  this  himself.  People  had 


KECEPTION    OF    THE    NEW    "  IPHIGENIA."      323 

expected  something  different.  Goethe's  fame  as  Germa- 
ny's first  poet  rested  on  his  "  Gotz,"  or  even  more  on  his 
"  Werther,"  which  was  at  that  time  still  at  its  full  height 
of  popularity.  Men  looked  for  something  passionate, 
world-storming,  revolutionary,  and,  above  all,  for  some- 
thing "  German ; "  instead  of  this,  Goethe  offers  them 
a  Greek  fable,  in -smooth  antique  verse,  with  subdued 
feeling,  a  longing  for  seclusion  and  repose,  a  uniform 
tone  of  sublimity,  and  a  meaning  in  the  work  which 
must  have  been  an  enigma  to  his  new  Roman  friends. 
How  should  they  know  who  was  meant  by  Thoas,  and 
where  by  Tauris  ?  Moreover,  what  had  surprised  Ger- 
many in  "  Iphigenia  "  was  to  be  encountered  at  every  step 
in  Rome ;  and  here  people  did  not  want  the  spirit  of 
ancient  Greece,  but  craved  what  was  not  to  be  had  in 
Rome.  Fresh  German  air  they  longed  to  breathe  again, 
and  to  be  transported  to  their  distant  Fatherland.  This 
disappointment  Goethe  felt  all  the  more  keenly,  because 
soon  voices  from  Germany  also  reached  him, — voices 
of  friends  who  without  his  inspiring  presence  did  not 
know  how  to  interpret  the  printed  piece  in  its  new  form  ; 
it  was  much  dearer  to  them  in  its  old  familiar  shape. 
The  'knowledge  that  he  did  not  fulfil  the  expectations 
entertained  was  from  this  time  such  a  frequent  experi- 
ence with  him  that  it  almost  formed  the  rule.  But  he 
never  allowed  himself  to  be  unsettled  in  his  opinions  by 
it,  but  accustomed  himself  to  see  his  works  laid  aside 
for  years  before  men  began  to  understand  them  ;  and  he 
never  questioned  for  an  instant  the  correctness  of  the 
new  principles  he  had  adopted  in  Rome. 

It  is  something  grand  to  see  the  modesty  with  which 
from  this  time  he  allows  himself  to  be  found  fault  with 
as  "  smooth  and  cold."  He  feels  that  he  has  ceased  to 
create  for  the  present  moment,  disregards  his  limited 


324  LIFE    AXD    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

public  and  the  blame  of  the  day,  and  works  for  the  na- 
tion and  for  the  recognition  of  the  century. 

We  have  curious  statements  with  regard  to  the  recep- 
tion which  "Iphigenia"  met  in  his  own  home.  I  will 
speak  only  of  a  single  one  here  which  shows  Goethe's 
character  at  the  same  time  in  a  wholly  new  light. 

He  had  taken  with  him  from  Frankfort  to  Weimar  a 
young  man  to  fill  the  place  of  secretary  and  servant, 
named  Philip  Seidel.  We  are  indebted  for  the  first  par- 
ticular information  concerning  this  person  to  Burkhardt, 
who  published  Seidel's  correspondence  with  Goethe.  Sci- 
del's  letters  to  his  Frankfort  friends,  in  which  he  tells  of 
the  first  Weimar  times,  have  also  been  printed.  These 
letters  show  a  relation  between  master  and  servant  which 
of  its  kind  is  perfectly  unique. 

Seidel  was  called  a  "  stereotyped  edition  "  of  Goethe. 
His  letters  show  how  far  imitation  can  be  carried.  He 
made  himself  a  perfect  Werther.  It  is  delicious  to  hear 
him  describing  the  aristocratic  society  of  Weimar  as  if 
he  looked  down  upon  it  from  a  height.  Desponding, 
benevolent,  he  believes  fully  in  his  better  understanding 
of  all  things,  and  gives  his  dogmatic  opinions  without  the 
slightest  question  of  their  absolute  correctness.  While  he 
copied  Goethe's  poems,  or  wrote  them  down  according 
to  his  dictation,  he  assumed  the  air  of  being  joint  author 
of  them.  Finally,  he  started  out  liimself  as  a  writer. 

Seidel  slept  in  the  same  room  with  Goethe.  At  night, 
after  Goethe  had  returned  from  court,  both  lying  in  bed, 
they  took  a  review  of  the  world  and  God's  providence. 
While  Goethe  had  learned  to  qualify  his  opinions  of 
things,  Seidel  maintained  Werther's  old  radical  views. 

23d  November,  1775,  night,  —  11  o'clock,  —  Seidel 
writes  to  his  friend  Wolf,  in  Frankfort  (not  three  weeks 
after  Goethe's  first  arrival  in  Weimar)  :  — 


HIS    SECRETARY    PHILIP    SEIDEL.  325 

"In  this  blessed  situation  I  must  write  to  thee,  good 
brother,  for  here  I  am  copying  a  romance  of  which  my  mas- 
ter is  the  author.  I  am  in  a  perfectly  enchanting  place,  and 
will  write  to  you  about  it,  although  much  pressed  for  time, 
being  in  a  hurry  to  finish  this  book.  I  have  everything, — 
work  enough,  money  enough,  and  plenty  to  eat  and  drink ; 
only  —  only  —  no  love,  —  no  soul  to  whom  I  can  disclose 
myself.  They  are  an  idle,  stiff,  luxurious  people  here,  —  in- 
sufferable to  me.  Their  highest  merit  is  that  they  read 
books,  by  which,  however,  they  contrive  to  make  themselves 
still  more  intolerable.  You  wish  me  to  tell  you  something 
about  the  court ;  but  I  cannot  much,  because  I  have  little  to 
do  with  it,  and  it  does  not  specially  interest  me.  But  this 
I  must  say  to  you, — it  is  a  delight  to  my  soul  to  see  the 
princely  family.  One  cannot  enough  admire  the  grand  ease 
of  the  widowed  Duchess  and  the  fresh,  good  expression  of 
the  Duke.  And  you  should  hear  when  the  people  speak  of 
them,  how  they  extol  them,  —  their  '  God  be  thanked,'  and 
'God  preserve  them,'  uttered  with  weeping  eyes,  —  it  is 
really  touching! 

"Nov.  17,  at  the  masquerade.  This  I  liked  ;  there  was  a 
variety  of  pleasing  nonsense.  But  hear !  this  night  we  had  no 
sleep  ;  the  following  we  went  to  bed  at  quarter  past  twelve  : 
sleeping,  three  in  a  room,  we  fell  into  talk  from  one  thing 
to  another  down  to  the  very  devil.  Imagine  the  tremen- 
dous leap  from  love-stories  to  the  island  of  Corsica,  where  we 
remained  in  the  hottest  hand-to-hand  skirmish  until  toward 
four  o'clock  in  the  morning.  The  question  about  which  we 
disputed  with  as  much  vehemence  as  learning  was  this  : 
Whether  a  people  is  not  happier/ree  than  under  the  control 
of  a  sovereign  master  ?  for  I  had  said,  '  The  Corsicans  are 
truly  unfortunate.'  '  No,'  he  replied,  '  a  blessing  has  been 
vouchsafed  to  them  and  their  posterity  ;  they  are  becoming 
refined,  civilized,  and  instructed  in  art  and  learning,  instead 
of  remaining  rough  and  wild  as  they  were.'  '  Sir,'  I  re- 
joined, '  I  should  say  to  the  devil  with  all  these  refinements 


326  LIFE    AXD    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

and  improvements  at  the  expense  of  freedom,  which  alone 
gives  real  happiness.  The  Corsicans  could  not  have  been 
wild,  except  the  inhabitants  of  the  mountain  regions ;  else 
they  would  never  have  had  such  a  love  of  liberty  and  never 
have  evinced  such  bravery.  They  were  happy;  they  were 
comfortable  in  the  satisfaction  of  every  want,  because  they 
made  themselves  no  unnecessary  wants.  Now  their  needs 
increase  daily,  and  cannot  be  gratified  ;  for  none  of  us  can  eat, 
drink,  dress  himself,  go  into  company  or  not  as  he  likes,  etc. 
They  had  all  they  desired,  because  they  did  not  desire  much  ; 
and  that  much  they  had  in  freedom.'" 

Seidel  was  the  only  person  in  Weimar  who  had  known 
of  Goethe's  Italian  journey.  He  was  left  behind  as  his 
agent,  to  open  his  letters,  take  charge  of  his  money,  etc. 
To  the  great  Seidel  Goethe  now  sends  his  new  "  Iplrige- 
nia."  Seidel  impudently  writes  him  how  dissatisfied  he 
is  with  it ;  and  we  hear  how  Goethe  answers  him,  the  first 
poet  in  Germany,  a  man  forty  years  of  age,  to  a  subaltern 
secretary  six  years  younger  than  himself!  The  middle 
of  May.  1789,  he  writes  to  him  from  Naples :  — 

"  Your  letter  of  March  7  reached  me  yesterday  as  I  was 
leaving  the  ship,  and  your  true  words  were  heartily  welcome 
to  me.  The  journey  through  Sicily  has  been  happily  accom- 
plished, and  will  remain  to  me  an  indestructible  treasure  the 
rest  of  my  life.  What  you  say  of  my  '  Iphigenia'  is,  alas! 
in  a  certain  sense  true.  When  I,  for  the  sake  of  art  and  my 
vocation,  was  forced  to  write  it  all  over,  I  saw  beforehand 
that  the  best  passages  must  lose  if  the  worst  and  medium 
ones  were  to  be  improved.  You  point  out  two  scenes  whu-h 
have  manifestly  lost ;  but  when  it  is  printed,  read  it  again 
calmly,  and  you  will  realize  what  the  whole  has  gained." 

A  humanity,  a  genuine  humility,  breathes  through 
these  words,  which  reveals  Goethe's  heart  as  it  was. 


HIS  HUMILITY  UNDER  SEIDEI/S  CRITICISM.    327 

But  one  thing  is  said  in  this  letter  which,  after  all  that  has 
become  known,  amazes  us.     Goethe  continues  :  — 

"  Yet  the  principal  trouble  with  the  drama  is,  that  I  have 
had  so  little  time  to  devote  to  it.  The  first  sketch  I  wrote  in 
the  midst  of  picking  up  recruits,  and  I  went  on  with  it  while 
making  my  Italian  tour.  If  I  had  had  time  to  elaborate  the 
piece,  you  would  not  have  had  cause  to  regret  a  line  in  it." 

We  see,  then,  that,  after  all,  Goethe  considered  "  Iphi- 
genia  "  as  a  hasty  work,  which  might  have  been  made 
quite  different. 

It  seems  that  Seidel,  even  after  these  explanations,  re- 
tained his  preference  for  the  earlier  form  of  the  piece. 
Goethe  writes  him  again  in  October,  1787  :  — 

"  You  shall  have  an  '  Iphigenia  '  in  prose  as  well,  if  it  gives 
you  pleasure.  The  artist  can  only  labor  and  strive.  Ap- 
plause is  like  love  returned,  —  only  to  be  desired,  never  to 
be  extorted" 

In  the  same  modest  way  Goethe  defends  "  Claudine  of 
Villabella,"  whose  prose  form  had  been  changed  into  iam- 
bics in  Italy,  against  the  like  censures  from  Philip  Seidel. 
He  always  placed  the  greatest  value  on  honest  criticism, 
let  it  come  from  whom  it  might. 

Goethe,  however,  never  touched  "  Iphigenia "  again 
after  it  was  once  printed  in  the  form  under  discussion  ;  in 
less  than  a  year,  he  was  as  much  estranged  from  the  work 
as  if  it  had  never  been  his  own.  As  his  love  for  Frau  von 
Stein  cooled,  his  interest  in  the  work  cooled  also.  He 
confesses  openly  to  Schiller,  some  ten  years  after  the 
Roman  remodelling,  that  he  no  longer  feels  any  sympathy 
with  the  piece,  and  treats  it  as  indifferently  as  if  it  had 
been  the  production  of  a  stranger ;  so  that  Schiller  is 
obliged  to  take  it  under  his  protection.  "  Iphigenia  "  is  to 


-• 


328  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETJIE. 

be  brought  upon  the  stage  and  some  alterations  are  nec- 
essary. Schiller  undertakes  them,  as  Goethe  cannot  be 
induced  to  touch  it.  Even  as  early  as  1792,  when  Goethe 
met  Jacobi  on  the  Rhine,  and  was  asked  to  read  some- 
thing aloud,  he  refused  "  Iphigenia,"  which  they  proposed 
to  lay  before  him.  He  said  that  the  prevailing  tone  of  ten- 
derness in  the  poem  had  grown  uncongenial  to  him.  He 
spoke  of  it  to  Schiller  as  the  "  Grecianized  Play,"  and 
said  sarcastically  that  Iphigenia  was  "  devilish  humane." 
It  is  curious  that  when  Goethe  in  his  old  age  spoke  to 
Eckermann  of  "  Iphigenia,"  he  said  he  had  never  seen  a 
truly  good  representation  of  it ;  and  I  believe  that  very  few 
persons  now-a-days  can  say  they  have  ever  been  so  fortu- 
nate as  to  see  it  well  rendered  on  the  stage.  It  is  seldom 
acted.  At  present  when  we  hear  "  Iphigenia "  spoken 
of  as  a  stage  performance  we  think  of  Gluck's  opera. 

If  the  work  of  "  Iphigenia  "  signalizes  Goethe's  going 
to  Italy,  another  of  his  poems  symbolizes  his  leaving  it. 
"  Tasso  "  is  the  fruit  of  his  longing  to  return  to  Italy. 
Goethe  sought  by  writing  "  Tasso  "  to  benumb  his  feel- 
ings on  the  way  home  from  Rome,  and  finished  it  in  Wei- 
mar, when  the  sight  of  the  old  unchanged  circumstances 
seemed  to  him  unendurable.  In  the  Boboli  gardens  in 
Florence,  where  he  stopped  only  a  short  time,  he  worked 
on  it,  and  also  devoted  to  it  every  leisure  hour  in  Wei- 
mar after  his  arrival.  Tasso  must  take  Iphigenia's 
place,  wholly,  as  the  confidant  of  his  soul.  It  is  Goethe's 
ripest  and  most  perfect  tragedy.  "  Tasso  "  was  written 
when  he  was  in  his  full  vigor  and  in  the  prime  of  his 
manhood. 

"  Iphigenia  "  was  like  some  young  fir-tree  which,  trans- 
planted into  Italy,  changed  into  a  pine.  In  "  Tasso  "  only 
the  core  remained  German.  Two  acts  written  in  poetic 
prose  Goethe  had  taken  with  him  to  Rome,  which  in  con- 


HOW  "TASSO"  ORIGINATED.  329 

ception,  plan,  and  development,  while  having  something 
similar  to  the  ones  at  present  existing,  yet  had  a  soft  and 
nebulous  coloring  which  they  soon  lost  when,  in  accordance 
with  his  new  ideas,  the  form  became  of  more  importance, 
and  he  put  it  into  verse.  "  Tasso  "  sprang  up  afresh  from, 
the  old  root,  tender  and  strong,  like  a  glistening  laurel- 
tree  which  had  never  tasted  any  but  the  sun  of  Italy. 

Greek  feeling,  Roman  culture,  and  German  sensibility 
combined  in  him  to  form  a  new  modern  element,  which  we 
may  well  call  "  Goethean  "  in  the  most  pregnant  sense. 
"  Tasso  "  shows  Goethe's  style  in  its  highest  perfection. 
These  iambics  taught  Schiller  to  write  iambics,  and  fur- 
nished Schlegel  with  the  language  with  which  he  made 
Shakspeare  as  it  were  a  German  poet.  Without  "  Tasso  " 
our  poetic  diction  would  never  have  attained  its  present 
perfection.  The  first  idea  of  the  work  perhaps  dates  as  far 
back  as  Goethe's  earliest  period  as  a  writer.  At  the  time  he 
was  with  Jacobi  in  Diisseldorf  he  read  a  romance  pictur- 
ing Tasso's  insanity.  It  may  be  that,  without  a  thought 
of  committing  it  to  paper,  the  idea  of  a  drama  then 
arose  in  his  mind,  as  that  of  "  Iphigenia  "  did  in  connection 
with  the  cantata  in  honor  of  Gluck's  niece.  It  was  neces- 
sary for  Goethe  to  have  repeated  experiences  before  his  first 
idea  took  the  form  of  a  settled  plot.  To  those  who  would 
follow  the  growth  of  "  Tasso  "  we  offer  the  following : 

Among  Goethe's  Strasburg  companions  Lenz  was  con- 
spicuous as  one  of  the  most  talented.  Single  verses  in 
his  poems  are  strikingly  beautiful.  Goethe  seems  to  have 
valued  him  almost  more  than  any  of  the  others.  After  a 
confused  and  wasted  life  he  died  insane  in  Russia.  Not 
long  after  Goethe  was  established  in  Weimar,  Lenz  ap- 
peared there  as  Genie,1  and  as  such  was  received.  He 

1  It  is  difficult  to  find  an  English  equivalent  for  this.  The  German  term 
"  Kraftgenies  "  was  assumed  by  the  literary  youth  of  the  period,  who 


330  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

was  eccentric  in  dress,  manners,  and  pretensions.  Goethe 
knew  how  to  restrain  him  within  the  bounds  of  decorum, 
and  make  him  appear  to  the  best  advantage ;  but  Lenz, 
who  ascribed  his  kindly  acceptance  by  the  people  to  his 
own  merit,  may  through  this  mistake  have  been  tempted 
into  a  positive  act  of  folly. 

At  any  rate,  one  day  the  cup  overflowed.  Lenz  did 
some  crazy  thing,  of  what  kind  we  are  not  told,  and  peo- 
ple agreed  in  calling  him  a  jackass.  I  suppose  this  term, 
used  by  a  circle  of  Shakspeare  admirers-,  may  have  been 
an  allusion  to  "  Midsummer  Night's  Dream,"  where  Bot- 
tom, changed  into  an  ass,  makes  love  to  Titania.  I  believe 
this  piece  of  stupidity  (Eselei  as  the  Germans  call  it) 
suggested  the  fatal  scene  in  "  Tasso."  Tasso,  beside  him- 
self at  the  signs  of  favor  received  from  a  distinguished 
lady,  who  cares  more  for  his  mind  than  his  person,  and 
who  has  no  conception  how  far  her  condescension  may 
mislead  a  genius,  draws  her  violently  to  his  heart,  and 
ruins  himself  by  the  act. 

However,  this  is  mere  conjecture !  The  pre-Italian 
version  of  "  Tasso  "  is  lost  to  us.  Goethe  had  begun  the 
"  Tasso  "  six  years  before  he  went  to  Rome.  He  wrote  it 
"  to  relieve  himself,"  as  he  told  Eckermann,  calling  Tasso 
at  the  same  time  "an  enhanced  Werther."  In  another 
place  he  calls  Tasso  one  of  those  creatures  of  the  imagi- 
nation to  whom  we  could  impute  all  our  own  follies  and 
then  name  him  "  Tasso." 

But  Antonio  also  is  Goethe,  as  he  has  likewise  said. 
In  the  antagonism  of  these  two  characters,  who  unrelent- 
ingly repulse  each  other,  Goethe  represents  the  irrecon- 
cilableness  of  the  two  parts  in  which  he  was  condemned 
to  appear  during  the  Ten  Years.  Tasso  is  Goethe  in 

thought  themselves  above  all  conventionalities,  and  affected  a  boisterous 
extravagant  style  in  language,  dress,  and  manners. 


ORIGINAL   CHARACTER    OF    "  TASSO."  331 

his  innermost  nature  and  tendency.  In  Lenz  he  saw  his 
caricature,  and  in  the  decisive  scene  of  the  piece  —  for 
which,  as  I  suspect,  Lenz  gave  the  motive  —  Goethe  paints 
what  might  have  happened  if  he  had  allowed  himself  to 
be  carried  away  as  Lenz  was,  without,  figuratively  speak- 
ing, leaving  his  own  kingdom  open  for  retreat.  Antonio, 
on  the  other  hand,  is  what  Goethe  felt  he  must  become  if 
he,  as  a  statesman,  allowed  himself  to  be  enticed  in  a  one- 
sided direction,  —  at  best  a  man  like  Fritsch  !  And  here 
we  see  right  clearly  what  is  meant  by  "  symbolic  poetry." 
Goethe  represents  in  "  Tasso  "  the  thoughts  day  by  day  re- 
hearsed in  his  soul,  while  the  incidents  of  the  piece  bear 
no  reference  to  the  real  events  of  his  life.  It  is  impos- 
sible to  cull  out  of  the  figures  in  "  Tasso  "  a  single  living 
character.  They  are  wholly  original  beings,  —  all  of  them 
created  to  personify  ideas  and  duties ;  and  precisely  be- 
cause these  characters  were  spontaneous  creations  with 
Goethe  they  are  so  much  the  more  genuine.  With  them 
Goethe  has  produced  a  new  world,  which  he  informs 
with  the  thoughts  which  animate  his  soul ;  while  if  he 
had  written  a  piece  filled  with  the  persons  of  the  Duke, 
Duchess,  Von  Fritsch,  Frau  von  Stein,  Lenz,  himself, 
etc.,  introducing  word  for  word  the  things  which  had  act- 
ually been  uttered,  compared  with  "  Tasso  "  it  would  have 
been  only  a  perishable  puppet-show,  suited  to  throw  some 
lover  of  the  so-called  literal  facts  into  ecstasies,  but  in 
reality  not  possessing  a  glimmer  of  the  absolute  truth 
which  beams  upon  us  from  the  "  Tasso.  " 

While  glorifying  Ferrara,  Goethe  has  lavished  on  Wei- 
mar indirectly  the  most  exquisite  praise  imaginable,  and 
such  as  could  never  have  been  bestowed  in  a  direct  man- 
ner. So  might  Weimar  have  been,  and  he  represents  it 
as  if  it  were  so  !  The  actual  Ferrara  has  also  through 
this  poem  gained  a  wholly  undeserved  renown,  but  of  a 


332  LIFE  AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

deserted  princely  residence  of  the  second  rank  a  new 
shoot  of  the  old  Pericles  Athenian  life  has  arisen.  Stran- 
gers to-day  wander  about  in  the  tiresome  streets  of  Fer- 
rara,  which  probably  were  not  a  bit  more  interesting  in  the 
sixteenth  century,  sniffing  the  old  walls  for  the  sake  of  the 
past.  In  the  same  way  Goethe  has  re-created  the  person 
of  Tasso  himself;  but  of  a  poet  who  to  German  taste  is 
insipid,  and  whose  works  to-day  only  a  few  succeed  in 
reading  through,  notwithstanding  their  splendid  caden- 
ces, he  has  made  a  heroic  figure,  a  genius  to  whom  one  as- 
cribes the  most  glorious  possibilities.  And  this  Ferrara 
of  Goethe's  imagination,  its  princely  family,  its  court, 
with  its  court  poet,  are  portrayed  with  such  convincing 
reality  that  the  facts  weigh  as  nothing  in  comparison  with 
it.  All  this  fictitious  splendor  has  been  grafted  upon 
history,  and  so  interwoven  with  it  that  the  sharpest  crit- 
ical shears  will  never  be  able  to  sever  it  again.  Study  as 
we  will,  Goethe's  Ferrara  remains  for  us  a  picture  of  the 
flower  of  Italian  life  in  the  sixteenth  century  ;  and,  as  he 
represents  the  sentiments  and  manners  of  the  people,  a  soft 
splendor  radiates  from  the  pages,  which  we  seek  in  vain  to 
dispel  by  a  perusal  of  the  actual  documents  of  the  time. 

And  yet  we  must  assert,  in  face  of  any  facts  to  the 
contrary,  that  Goethe's  view  was  correct.  There  existed 
in  the  Italy  of  the  Cinquecento  a  spirit  which  could  be 
personified  as  it  has  been  in  "  Tasso."  We  need  only  read 
the  condition  of  things  in  Germany  then  :  in  contrast  to 
the  dismal  wilderness  all  other  nations  presented,  Italy 
was  like  a  well-cultivated  sunny  garden,  where  golden 
fruit  peacefully  ripened  on  the  espaliers ;  only  the  souls 
of  men  did  not  lie  so  open  to  the  light  as  they  appear  to 
us  to  have  done  in  Tasso. 

In  the  construction  of  the  acts,  in  the  carrying  out  of 
the  scenes,  and  in  the  expression  of  the  ideas  this  work 


"TASSO"  NOT  FOR  THE  MODERN  STAGE.    333 

is  perfect  and  unrivalled.  Every  word  is  a  thought.  But, 
as  I  have  said  already,  this  drama  also  was  not  written 
for  the  stage. 

We  have  seen  how  Goethe  on  his  entrance  into  Weimar 
gave  up  that  ideal  stage  which  he  had  in  his  mind  when 
writing  "  Gotz."  "  Iphigenia"  truly  was  written  expressly 
for  the  boards,  and  it  was  chiefly  for  this  reason  that  it 
did  not  gain  a  higher  form.  But  the  new  "  Iphigenia  " 
which  was  written  in  Rome  returned  to  that  old  ideal  stage, 
and  in  a  yet  higher  degree  "  Tasso  "  belonged  to  it  and  to 
no  other.  This  piece  contains  nothing  which  could  give 
the  managers  a  chance  to  show  their  skill.  It  scarcely 
offers  roles  for  actors.  The  characters  are  too  finely 
wrought  out :  they  play  them  best  who  mar  them  least. 
Only  slowly  could  be  understood  in  Germany  what  Goe- 
the had  intended  and  what  he  had  accomplished  in  tfiis 
work.  It  took  years  to  mature  the  thought  that  it  was 
within  the  limits  of  possibility  to  make  it  an  acting-play. 
For  if  the  actors  could  be  found,  where  could  they  find 
a  public  ?  Leopold  Stolberg  wrote  to  Jacobi :  "  What  do 
you  say  to  Goethe's  '  Tasso  '  ?  The  tone  displeases  me 
eminently.  Why  does  he  give  the  petty,  proud,  ostenta- 
tious Antonio  such  superiority  over  the  pupil  of  the 
Muses  and  Graces  ?  "  "  Single  passages  are  excellent," 
he  adds.  The  same  kind  of  criticism,  leaving  out  of 
sight  altogether  the  higher  meaning  of  the  poem,  Goethe 
had  to  accept  as  the  common  judgment.  But  Goethe  was 
not  to  be  misled.  He  was  now  in  every  respect  a  man, 
and  knew  what  he  had  to  do.  It  was  clear  to  him  that  in 
the  future  no  critic  could  teach  him  anything,  for  that  he 
alone  knew  what  direction  he  ought  to  keep. 

"  Tasso "  is  the  grateful  tribute  which  Goethe  dedi- 
cated to  Italy.  Yet  he  did  not  rest  satisfied  with  this. 
To  Rome  herself  he  raised  another  memorial,  —  the 


334  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

"  Roman  Elegies,"  on  which  he  worked  in  Weimar  at 
the  same  time.     Of  these  we  will  now  speak. 

We  have  seen  Goethe  become  a  legitimate  member  of 
the  aristocracy.  He  knew  how  to  value  the  qualities 
which  distinguish  this  society  from  any  below  it,  and  did 
not  neglect  also  to  make  them  his  own.  So  understood, 
Goethe  was  in  the  best  sense  a  parvenu.  He  gives 
himself  this  title  quite  openly.  Nevertheless,  we  have 
seen  that  he  was  so  much  led  to  seek  it  either  because 
he  was  charmed  with  its  novelty,  or  because  in  a  practi- 
cal sense  he  could  make  it  useful  to  him.  How  modest 
and  genuinely  humble  Goethe  yet  continued  to  be  is  shown 
in  his  treatment  of  Philip  Seidel,  and  in  his  intercourse 
with  the  poor  Krafft,  —  a  miserable  youth,  the  scape-goat 
of  Fate,  whom  he  comforts  with  touching  kind-hearted- 
ness, supports,  and  bears  patiently  even  with  his  distrust. 
To  the  externals  of  his  high  position  he  never  ascribed 
greater  value  than  they  deserved.  He  considered  them 
in  the  light  of  relays  in  his  life-journey.  He  knew  how 
to  make  a  display  of  his  nobility,  of  his  titles  "  Minister  " 
or  "  Eccellenza,"  if  it  would  shorten  his  way  to  his  ob- 
ject ;  but  as  poet,  and  in  his  friendly  relations,  he  always 
remained  unconscious  and  unpretending. 

Goethe  demanded  truth  at  any  price.  The  labels  must 
show  in  clear  characters  what  the  contents  of  the  jars 
were.  His  poems  contain  the  highest  and  most  elevated 
thoughts  which  have  ever  found  expression  in  the  German 
language,  while  at  the  same  time  it  never  occurred  to 
him  to  disown  what  is  inherent  in  human  nature.  Goethe 
shrinks  from  nothing.  He  sees  everything,  and  calls 
everything  by  its  right  name ;  and  there  are  few  things 
to  which  he  did  not,  once  at  least,  find  an  opportunity  to 
give  that  right  name.  What  stirred  him  was  put  into 
words.  There  are  verses  written  by  him  which  indeed 


HIS    KELATION    TO    CHRISTIANE.  335 

were  not  intended  for  others,  but  which  have  at  last 
come  to  light  (the  Paralipomena  to  the  "  Faust "),  in 
which  things  most  earthy  and  filthy  are  spoken  of  with 
a  plainness  and  assurance,  as  having  the  same  right  to 
be  poetically  and  precisely  symbolized  as  what  is  held 
to  be  finest  and  most  sublime.  Goethe  knew  the  double 
nature  of  man,  and  never  denied  that  he  spoke  from  his 
own  experience.  He  was  rather  cold  than  passionate: 
his  nature  may  have  been  like  his  sister's.  He  was 
never  dissipated.  His  works  do  not  contain  one  single 
passage  which  could  be  called  lewd.  But  Goethe  was 
human ;  and,  to  pass  from  a  general  view  of  his  life  to 
details  where  the  demands  of  his  nature  came  in  collision 
with  what  he  regarded  as  mere  external  conventions,  he 
as  genuine  democrat  at  heart  never  doubted  on  which 
side  to  place  himself.  On  his  return  to  Weimar  Goethe 
needed  the  presence  of  a  woman  in  his  home.  He  had 
in" thought  so  wholly  freed  himself  from  the  outward  re- 
straint of  Weimar  life,  that  it  would  have  been  impos- 
sible for  him  to  take  to  himself  a  wife  out  of  one  of  the 
aristocratic  Weimar  families  ;  and  his  existence  there,  so 
far  as  his  inmost  life  was  concerned,  seemed  to  him  to 
have  ended.  Fran  von  Stein  had  plucked  the  flower  which 
such  a  union  might  have  offered  for  herself.  Goethe 
asked  now  only  health,  freshness,  youth,  and  devotion, 
added  to  genuine  mother-wit ;  and  for  the  rest  it  was  all 
the  same  in  what  sphere  of  life  he  found  it.  Therefore 
he  did  not  hesitate,  when  in  a  lower  grade  in  society  he 
met  a  beautiful  maiden  who  possessed  all  these  require- 
ments, to  take  her  to  himself. 

This  is  Goethe's  relation  to  Christiane,  or,  as  his  old 

friends   emphatically  called   her,  "  Mam'selle  Vulpius," 

-  from  the  beginning  a  marriage,  the  one  circumstance 

deducted  that  no  church  ceremony  took  place,  and  never 


336  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

looked  upon  by  Goethe  in  any  other  light.  He  very 
soon  took  Christiane,  together  with  her  mother  and 
sister,  into  his  house,  and  lived  with  them  as  with  his 
legitimate  family.  Christiane  and  her  children  were 
his  wife  and  his  children  to  anybody  who  might  inquire 
after  them. 

Nor  in  Weimar  did  any  one  really  take  this  ill  in 
Goethe.  All  the  reproaches  were  attached  to  the  quali- 
ties of  the  woman,  whose  appearance  was  said  to  be 
"  vulgar,"  —  which  meant  that  her  education  and  manner 
of  thinking  had  never  so  far  raised  her  as  to  enable  her 
to  satisfy  the  demands  which  good  society  makes  on  those 
esteemed  worthy  to  be  one  of  its  members. 

But  how  are  we  to  regard  this  person  who  from  now  on 
—  almost  thirty  years — was  an  inseparable  appendage 
of  Goethe,  and  had  a  significant  influence  upon  him  ? 

We  often  ignore  people  whose  existence  we  cannot 
deny,  though  we  heartily  wish  they  did  not  exist:  \ve 
bury  them  in  thought,  and  seem  no  longer  to  see  them. 
But  a  being  that  stood  so  near  to  Goethe,  and  had  such  an 
effect  on  his  works,  compels  us  to  form  an  opinion  of  her. 
It  truly  would  not  become  us  to  take  advantage  of  the 
great  amount  of  faults  of  which  she  has  been  accused, 
and  to  accept  the  accusations  as  sufficient  evidence  on 
which  to  base  a  judgment.  "  A  kind  of  cook,"  Chris- 
tiane was  said  to  have  been,  "  who  later  gave  herself  up 
to  drinking,"  and  by  whom  Goethe  must  to  the  very  last 
have  often  been  placed  in  awkward  situations.  But  why, 
instead  of  repeating  the  prevailing  notions  in  Weimar 
society,  should  we  not  rather  hold  fast  to  what  Goethe 
saw  in  Christiane  and  had  in  her,  —  a  maiden,  whom  lie 
"  passionately  loved,"  as  he  avowed  to  Herder  (using 
these  very  words)  ;  who  was  his  pupil  and  confidant  in 
his  investigations  of  the  metamorphoses  of  plants ;  the 


REAL    CHARACTER    OF    CHRISTIANE.  337 

mother  of  his  son,  on  whom  he  hung  with  his  whole  heart ; 
the  woman  who  directed  his  household,  whom  he  missed 
sadly  when  she  was  away  from  him,  and  whose  death 
brought  him  to  despair. 

Never  has  anything  been  said  against  the  life  of  tin's 
maiden  before  she  belonged  to  Goethe.  He  himself 
spoke  of  her  to  Frau  von  Stein  as  "  a  poor  creature ; " 
but  he  never  let  her  suffer  for  it.  He  wrote  letters  to 
her  when  they  were  separated,  which  were  preserved  by 
Christiane  as  her  greatest  treasure.  They  are  now  said 
to  be  burned.  Goethe's  mother  called  her  in  her  letters 
from  the  beginning  "  her  dear  daughter,"  and  was  on 
pleasant  terms  with  her  when  Goethe  took  her  to  Frank- 
fort. After  the  death  of  his  mother,  when  he  sent  her 
to  Frankfort  again  to  be  the  representative  for  his  claims 
on  the  estate,  she  behaved  so  generously  that  the  rela- 
tives could  not  complain.  We  have  a  letter,  lately  pub- 
lished, owing  to  this  circumstance,  which  does  full  justice 
to  Goethe's  wife,  and  from  which  we  learn  what  Chris- 
tiane thought  of  the  way  in  which  the  world  had  treated 
her.  The  expression  "  vulgar,"  after  all,  seems  only  to 
have  been  called  forth  by  the  unpolished  bluntness  she 
showed  on  all  occasions;  for  she  never  displayed  any 
selfishness,  and  she  never  flung  back  the  malicious 
criticisms  of  which  she  was  the  victim,  —  which,  in  an 
historical  sense,  is  considered  as  the  special  mark  of  vul- 
garity. As  soon  as  social  contrasts  cease,  her  vulgar- 
ity no  more  exists ;  and  it  is  inconceivable  that  Goethe 
could  have  endured  any  one  near  him  whose  character 
fundamentally  would  not  bear  the  test.  When,  after  the 
battle  of  Jena,  the  French  plundered  Weimar,  Christiane 
had  the  courage  to  press  through  the  marauders  to  the 
French  officers  and  obtain  for  Goethe  a  sauve-garde. 
Everywhere  that  we  see  this  woman  in  action,  we  see  her 

22 


338  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

acting  courageously,  energetically,  and  with  circumspec- 
tion. It  is  well  known  that,  after  the  battle  of  Jena, 
Goethe  married  her. 

Goethe  composed  a  beautiful  memorial  to  his  wife  and 
Rome  at  the  same  time  in  the  "  Roman  Elegies,"  where 
the  heroine,  surely  to  his  imagination,  corresponded  to 
Christiane. 

Goethe's  soul  was  full  of  Roman  pictures  when  he  met 
Christiane  in  Weimar.  Her  appearance  may  have  had 
something  Roman  in  it  to  him  at  that  time.  That  she 
had  the  stout,  somewhat  undersized,  figure  and  develop- 
ment which  distinguishes  Roman  women  we  see  from 
the  portrait  that  remains  of  her.  The  Roman  women 
have  a  proud  carriage,  as  if  they  all  descended  from  the 
old  emperors,  and  encounter  life  bravely.  Goethe,  in  his 
"  Elegies,"  makes  Christiane  as  genuine  a  Roman  as  ever 
appeared  in  the  Carnival  or  upon  the  Piazza  Ravona. 

In  coming  to  "Weimar  from  Frankfort,  Goethe  had  felt 
the  unconstrained  tone  of  Thuringian  society  to  be  a 
relief.  Frau  von  Stein  represented  the  animus  of  this 
new  life.  But  in  Rome  he  met  with  something  which 
exceeded  even  the  most  refined  society  of  Weimar,  — 
perfect  freedom,  —  only  held  in  check  by  the  mighty 
weight  of  history  with  which  Rome  burdens  every  one 
encompassed  by  its  walls.  He  purposely  avoided  aristo- 
cratic society  in  Rome,  saying,  truly,  "  he  had  had  that 
at  home."  Before  the  past  which  surrounds  us  in  Rome 
all  distinctions  of  rank  disappear.  Here  one  under- 
stands how  clerical  and  secular  nobles  could  rise  so  high 
out  of  the  very  lowest  ranks.  Wherever  else  this  hap- 
pens, some  trace  of  early  surroundings  remain.  Not  so 
in  Rome.  Goethe  there  learned  that  it  is  the  highest 
conception  of  freedom  for  a  man  to  be  able  to  give  to  a 
maiden,  of  whatever  rank,  a  position  at  his  side  ;  and  on 


HIS  "ROMAN  ELEGIES."  339 

his  return  to  Weimar  he  made  use  of  this  freedom. 
Who  has  ever  been  in  Rome  counts  himself  in  imagina- 
tion henceforth  in  the  list  of  its  inhabitants.  Who  must 
leave  Rome,  like  Wilhelm  Miiller  in  his  Roman  letter, 
writes  a  rivederci,  and  never  addio.  When  very  old, 
standing  with  Chancellor  Miiller  before  the  great  map 
of  Rome  which  hung  in  his  room,  Goethe  touched  with 
his  finger  the  Ponto  Molle,  and  said :  "  I  must  con- 
fess that  since  I  drove  over  it  for  the  last  time  I  have 
never  known  a  really  happy  day."  He  never  ceased  to 
cherish  the  refreshing  idea  of  once  again  and  then  for- 
ever returning  to  Rome.  When  he  took  Christiane  into 
his  home,  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  he  still  lived  in  Rome ; 
and  he  shut  himself  into  his  house  with  her  as  he  might 
have  done  there,  without  its  occurring  to  any  one  to  spy 
over  his  garden  hedge.  Goethe,  haunted  by  thoughts  of 
Roman  freedom,  believed  he  could  do  without  the  world 
in  Weimar  as  in  Italy  ;  was  at  any  rate  resolved  to  keep 
people  at  a  distance  as  he  had  done  there.  He  ventured 
quietly  to  continue  in  Weimar  his  wonted  free  life ;  and, 
if  it  was  not  done  wholly  without  injury  to  himself,  we 
must  confess  that  he  had  his  way. 

Goethe  says  in  his  "  Elegies  "  that  the  Triumvirs  of 
love  inspired  him,  —  Catullus,  Tibullus,  and  Propertius. 
He  forgets  in  this  place  the  poor  Johannes  Secundus,  to 
whom  perhaps  he  was  no  less  indebted.  Nothing  mod- 
ern has  ever  been  written  so  antique  as  Goethe's  "  Ele- 
gies." He  is  once  betrayed  into  a  half-joke  over  himself: 
it  seems  to  him  as  if  his  soul  had  in  the  time  of  Hadrian 
lived  in  a  Roman.  We  imagine  that  in  course  of  trans- 
migration one  of  the  three  Roman  poets  has  again  ap- 
peared on  earth,  —  that  in  Weimar  he  tunes  his  lyre 
anew ;  and  though  everything  is  changed  around  him, 
intoxicated  with  the  joy  of  his  strange  life  he  puts  the 


340  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

old  accustomed  wine  to  his  lips,  which  during  two  thou- 
sand years  has  every  year  been  pressed  out  as  in  the 
primal  days ;  and  the  ancient  spirit  of  pure  delight  in 
being  stands  before  us,  newly  risen  from  the  tombs. 

Goethe  has  made  Christiane  a  Roman  maiden,  who 
pours  out  the  wine  in  an  Italian  vigna,  and  himself 
the  one  who  among  all  the  guests  is  dearest  to  her. 
With  everything  which  adorned  Italian  life  in  his  recol- 
lection Goethe  has  surrounded  this  maiden,  and  has 
wrought  what  was  at  first  his  and  her  secret  into  the 
most  beautiful  idyl.  How  he  first  met  her  unknown 
in  the  dark,  how  she  secretly  came  to  him,  how  they 
understood  each  other  without  the  world's  suspecting  it, 
—  all  this  Weimar  experience  has  been  transferred  to 
Rome.  With  the  fragrance  of  Italy  he  has  draped  her 
figure.  The  "  Roman  Elegies  "  are  the  first  fruit  which 
the  Italian  sun  ripened  later  in  his  soul  on  German  soil. 

If  we  would  wholly  appreciate  "  Tasso,"  we  must  think 
of  this  obscure  and  lowly-born  one  as  the  foster-sister  of 
the  princesses  in  "  Tasso."  Goethe,  in  imagination,  was 
not  only  at  home  among  the  intricacies  of  the  society 
which  moved  upon  the  heights  of  life,  but  understood 
likewise  and  depicted  in  a  masterly  manner  the  different 
experiences  of  a  heart  which,  belonging  to  a  wholly  dif- 
ferent sphere,  was  yet  drawn  in  sympathy  to  his  own. 
We  see  Goethe  as  ardent  here  as  there  :  he  is  refined  and 
reverent.  The  "  Roman  Elegies  "  and  "  Tasso  "  sprang  up 
together,  and  may  not  be  considered  separately.  They 
are  the  complement  one  to  the  other,  as  indivisible  parts 
of  the  same  harvest, —  in  "  Tasso,"  historic  inspiration  ; 
in  the  "  Elegies,"  enjoyment  of  the  present. 

Christiane,  the  little  wife,  died  in  1816.  In  some 
verses  on  her  loss,  we  feel  that  the  necessity  of  relieving 
his  oppressed  heart  called  them  forth.  They  show  that 


HIS    GRIEF   AT    CHRISTIANAS    DEATH.         341 

she  was  a  part  of  him,  and  how  inconsolably  he  longed 
for  her.  "  All  the  use  I  can  now  make  of  my  life  is  to 
weep  her  loss,"  he  said.  Since  now  this  lies  clearly  be- 
fore us  ;  since  nothing  betrays  that  Goethe  through  Chris- 
tiane's  influence  was  ever  taken  out  of  his  intellectual 
life,  or  that  she  was  in  any  way  a  detriment  to  his  work  ; 
since  he,  as  Louise  Seidler  testifies,  looked  upon  her 
presence  as  something  indispensable  to  his  welfare,  —  I 
do  not  know  why  we  should  speculate  as  to  whether  his 
marriage  with  any  other  woman  would  have  proved  hap- 
pier for  him. 

Considered  from  our  distance  to-day,  there  is  something 
humorous  in  the  fact  that  our  most  aristocratic  poet 
—  aristocratic  in  every  sense  of  the  word  —  appears  as 
the  husband  of  a  rollicking,  buxom  "  Hausfrau,"  and 
brother-in-law  to  that  Vulpius  from  whose  fancy  sprang 
the  famous  robber-chief  Rinaldo  Rinaldini ;  but  it  does 
not  injure  his  memory.  Robinson,  -Goethe's  old  adorer, 
who,  after  studying  in  Jena  in  1802,  returned  every  ten 
years  to  Germany,  mentions  Christiane  in  his  first  visit 
there :  — 

"  During  my  calls  on  Goethe  I  saw  the  companion  at  his 
table,  the  mother  of  his  children,  and,  as  is  generally  known, 
afterward  his  wife.  She  had  an  agreeable  face,  and  a  hearty 
tone  in  conversation.  Her  manner  was  unaffected  and 
without  formality.  Curious  things  were  in  circulation  about 
her  siibmissive  demeanor  and  the  freedom  of  her  intercourse 
with  Goethe  when  young,  but  as  I  saw  her  all  these  eccen- 
tricities had  long  passed  away." 

As  with  all  well-educated  Englishmen,  one  has  with 
Robinson  the  feeling  of  his  absolute  sincerity. 

"  Eccentricities  "  is  a  very  innocent  word,  and  truly 
the  correct  one.  Without  doubt  Christiane  often  gave 
the  Weimar  ladies  occasion  to  observe  how  little  she 


342  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF   GOETHE. 

cared  for  etiquette ;  but  Goethe's  character,  humanly  con- 
sidered, loses  as  little  by  this  back-ground  as  Socrates 
loses  in  our  eyes  by  his  marriage  with  Xantippe.  I 
do  not  think  it  necessary  that  we  should  be  obliged  to 
honor  in  Goethe's  wife  such  a  nature  as  that  of  Tasso's 
Leonora. 

After  so  cursorily  reviewing  what  happened  on  his 
return  from  the  Italian  journey,  in  the  next  lecture  we. 
will  revert  once  more  to  Rome. 


DESCRIPTIVE   LETTERS    FROM   ITALY.          343 


LECTURE  XVIII. 

ROME.  —  SICILY.  —  NAPLES.  —  PHILIPP    HACKERT.  —  SECOND 
SOJOURN  IN  ROME.  —  RETURN  TO  WEIMAR.  —  SCHILLER. 

T  RECAPITULATE:  Goethe  went  in  the  autumn  of 
-*•  1786  to  Italy,  and  returned  in  the  summer  of  1788. 
In  the  beginning  of  November,  1786,  he  had  arrived  in 
Rome  ;  in  March,  1787,  in  Naples  ;  in  April  had  gone  to 
Sicily,  returning  in  May  to  Naples.  In  June  he  is  again 
in  Rome,  and  leaves  it  finally,  after  almost  a  year's  stay 
there,  to  hurry  back  to  Weimar. 

The  letters  from  Sicily  are  the  most  perfect  in  the 
"  Italian  Journey."  The  reader's  curiosity  is  here  at  its 
height,  because  he  -brings  less  of  his  own  personal  criti- 
cism to  bear  upon  it.  This  excursion  stands  out  from 
the  rest  as  an  episode.  Goethe  himself  is  wholly  in  the 
background.  We  have  before  us  only  the  glorious  roads 
he  travelled  over  and  the  places  he  visited.  Here  he 
found  fewer  opportunities  to  weave  in  his  own  thoughts, 
for  he  had  never  been  so  completely  under  the  sway  of 
outward  things.  He  is  simply  a  traveller  who  starts  off 
early  each  morning,  goes  to  bed  tired  at  night,  and  in  the 
interim  is  a  keen  observer,  whose  thoughts  rarely  turn 
homeward. 

Naples  stirs  him  to  the  most  brilliant  descriptions.  I 
doubt  if  any  account,  by  anybody  or  in  any  language,  can 
compare  with  the  one  in  Goethe's  letters  of  the  journey 


344  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

up  Vesuvius ;  but  Naples  itself  soon  forms  only  the  back- 
ground to  his  own  distinguished  personality.  Goethe 
becomes  acquainted  iii  Naples  with  the  painter  Hackert, 
who,  in  great  favor  with  the  King  and  Queen,  lived  in 
the  Royal  Castle,  and  he  subsequently  wrote  the  story  of 
Hackert's  life  as  a  pendant  to  that  of  Winckelmann.  The 
Castles  of  Capodimonte  and  Caserta,  which  are  at  present 
wholly  deserted,  made  receptacles  for  collections  or  con- 
verted into  public  institutions,  were  at  that  time  just  in 
process  of  erection.  Hackert,  one  of  the  good  genii  loci, 
soon  formed  with  Goethe  an  intimate  friendship. 

Goethe  praises  Hackert's  landscapes,  —  not  extrava- 
gantly, but  he  speaks  of  them  as  deserving  attention  in  a 
high  degree.  To-day  one  is  accustomed  to  dismiss  them 
with  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders.  But  those  who  judge 
them  in  this  way  have  seen  very  few  of  Hackert's  land- 
scapes ;  or,  if  so,  they  were  mere  faded  water-color  paint- 
ings. One  such  landscape  (and  a  view  of  Rome  into  the 
bargain)  we  see  hanging  framed  in  the  Berlin  "  Cabinet 
of  Engravings."  The  gauche  colors  have  assumed  the 
milky  verdigris  tone  into  which  such  productions  often 
turn  in  course  of  time.  My  o"wn  opinion  for  a  long  time 
rested  on  the  impression  these  pictures  had  made,  and 
until,  in  other  places,  I  fell  by  chance  upon  a  greater 
number  of  his  works,  which  induced  a  much  more  favor- 
able verdict.  A  delicacy  in  the  handling,  a  genuine  eye 
for  Nature,  and  an  absence  of  all  seeking  after  meritrk 
cious  effects  struck  me  in  these  works,  united  with  a 
perception  of  the  lines  in  the  landscape  which  made 
Goethe's  preference  for  the  master  quite  comprehensible. 
In  the  landscape  paintings  of  our  days  we  are  so  much 
accustomed  to  find  truth  to  Nature  aimed  at  by  strong 
effects  of  color  roughly  blotched  in,  that  a  picture  of  a 
wide  landscape,  depending  for  its  effect  on  a  carefully 


MODERN   LANDSCAPE   PAINTING.  345 

drawn  imitation  of  the  outlines,  makes  scarcely  any  im- 
pression on  us.  Here  lies  Hackert's  forte ;  and  this  is 
what  was,  at  that  time,  specially  demanded. 

Goethe's  "  Italian  Journey  "  contains  so  many  descrip- 
tions of  landscape  that  a  few  words  on  this  subject  must 
be  said. 

The  representation  of  an  unpeopled  bit  of  Nature  as 
seen  by  the  eye  from  any  convenient  point  is,  as  a  finished 
work  of  art,  a  wholly  modern  production.  To  the  an- 
cients, however,  the  landscape  was  only  a  background  for 
human  action.  The  meaning  of  solitude  in  itself  was  not 
known  to  them.  They  could  only  think  of  inanimate 
Nature  by  personifying  it,  and  just  as  they  expressed 
Darkness  by  adding  the  figure  of  Night  to  the  rest  of 
the  figures  in  a  composition,  they  could  have  represented 
Solitude  only  by  bringing  the  godlike  inhabitants  of  trees 
and  fountains  into  the  foreground. 

The  modern  landscape,  in  its  present  sense,  was  un- 
known even  to  the  Renaissance,  and  is  an  outgrowth  of 
the  seventeenth  century.  The  glorious  representations 
of  land  and  water  which  Titian  and  Giorgione  have  given 
are  never  without  human  accessories,  —  as  if  to  show  who 
ruled  over  all  this  beauty,  and  without  whom  all  this  land- 
scape would  be  quite  unnecessary.  In  the  seventeenth 
century  first  arose,  among  men  who  saw  themselves  both 
politically  and  religiously  bound  by  what  seemed  indis- 
soluble chains,  a  longing  after  a  place  where  this  fearful 
tyranny  would  be  powerless  ;  and  only  the  solitude  where 
never  foot  of  man  had  trod  offered  this  refuge.  At  that 
time  began  the  cultus  of  Nature  as  an  impersonal  divin- 
ity, the  healer  of  all  ills  ;  the  longing  after  unexplored  dis- 
tances ;  the  seeking  for  undiscovered  islands,  where  man, 
led  only  by  the  pure  impulses  of  his  heart,  might  live 
united  with  a  few  congenial  spirits  whose  laws  of  exist- 


346  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

ence  were  the  laws  of  Nature.  They  began  to  regard  the 
landscape  as  a  portrait  of  this  same  Nature :  the  law  by 
which  the  trees  grow,  the  law  by  which  the  rocks  are  de- 
composed, the  undulations  of  the  sea  as  well  as  the  far- 
stretching  laud,  should  express  in  lines  the  spirit  of  the 
Mother  Earth  and  bring  us  nearer  to  it.  In  this  sense 
the  landscapes  of  the  last  century  are  to  be  apprehended. 
Goethe  had  taken  a  young  artist  with  him  to  Sicily,  who, 
with  fine  hard-lead  pencil,  sketched  for  him  the  outline  of 
the  mountains  and  the  lines  of  the  sea  on  the  coast. 

We  see  Hackert  in  his  drawings  and  paintings  following 
the  same  aim.  As  if  he  were  the  owner  of  the  land  who 
looks  at  his  property  with  a  practised  eye,  neither  over- 
valuing nor  undervaluing  anything,  he  draws  most  accu- 
rately the  rising  and  falling  of  the  faintest  wave-lines  in 
the  far  perspective  which  he  so  enjoyed  depicting.  With 
loving  sympathy  he  paints  each  tree  and  bush,  and  fol- 
lows the  course  of  the  streams.  The  less  a  work  of  art  de- 
pends upon  effective  coloring,  so  much  the  more  strongly 
does  it  work  upon  the  imagination  of  the  beholder ;  and  I 
do  not  doubt  that  the  time  will  come  when  these  paintings, 
which  to-day  seem  so  pale  and  uninteresting,  will  again  be 
valued,  and  Hackert  will  take  his  deserved  position. 

Goethe  has,  as  was  his  way,  introduced  into  Hackert's 
biography  everything  that  could  tend  to  explain  the  in- 
dividual career  of  this  artist.  He  lias  raised  an  histor- 
ical monument,  not  only  to  him,  but  also  to  Hackert's 
patron,  King  Ferdinand  of  Naples,  whose  simple,  inno- 
cent, kindly  manner  he  describes  admirably,  and  to  Queen 
Caroline  (daughter  of  Maria-Theresa)  whose  straightfor- 
ward good-nature  he  places  in  the  most  beautiful  light. 
This  is  all  the  more  interesting  to  us  as  it  pictures  the 
condition  of  the  Kingdom  of  the  two  Sicilies  before  the 
storm  of  the  French  Revolution  had  reached  there,  and 


MEMORIALS  OF  GOETHE  IN  ROME.     347 

previous  to  the  reign  of  Murat,  which  was  followed  by 
the  series  of  wretched  years  of  tyranny  which  paralyzed 
them,  and  reduced  them  to  the  mere  nonentities  they  are 
to-day;  for  Naples  itself  is  at  present  a  city  like  any 
other,  rapidly  increasing  in  modern  elegance  and  com- 
fort, and  one  of  the  chief  points  of  attraction  to  curious 
travellers  who  crowd  its  hotels. 

The  most  important  portion  of  Goethe's  visit  to  Italy, 
however,  was  his  second  sojourn  in  Rome.  Now,  for  the 
first  time  in  his  life,  he  establishes  himself  voluntarily  in 
a  place  with  the  thought  that  he  would  like  to  remain 
there  forever.  He  had  neither  gone  into  exile,  as  when 
he  first  left  Frankfort ;  nor  was  he  lured  by  a  prince, 
as  when  he  went  to  Weimar,  —  but  he  settles  himself  in 
Rome  because  the  -city  itself  captivates  him.  He  feels 
perfectly  at  home  in  it.  He  takes  a  comfortable  dwell- 
'ing;  loses  all  the  earlier  hurry,  the  feeling  that  he  must 
press  forward,  that  he  must  concentrate  himself ;  and 
lives  quietly  and  at  his  ease,  without  a  thought  for 
the  morrow.  And  here  again,  in  the  account  of  his  Ital- 
ian life,  Goethe  is  the  principal  feature,  and  Rome  around 
him  only  the  landscape.  Goethe's  life  in  Rome,  from 
1787  to  1788,  is  depicted  in  his  letters  with  a  power  of 
illustration  which  far  exceeds  that  in  "  Dichtimg  und 
Wahrheit."  The  letter-form  makes  it  all  the  more  real. 
He  dpes  not  propose  any  historic  painting,  but  seems  to 
lay  before  us  his  book  of  sketches  that  we  may  look  them 
through.  Goethe  has  an  eye  for  everything,  and,  added 
to  this,  the  wonderful  gift  of  being  happy  everywhere.  He 
travels  like  a  prince  visiting  his  new  domains,  who  feels 
himself  to  be  master  wherever  he  comes. 

The  house  in  which  he  lived  in  Rome  is  indicated 
to-day  by  a  marble  tablet,  —  "  Here  dwelt  Goethe,"  etc., 
—  placed  there  by  order  of  the  municipal  authorities. 


348  LIFE   ASTD   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

To  Gnoli  belongs  the  merit  of  having  suggested  this, 
and  of  having  found  the  house,  which  previously  had 
been  only  known  to  have  been  somewhere  on  the  Corso, 
opposite  the  Palazzo  Rondanini.  Goethe  tells  us  that 
he  looked  from  his  window  into  a  garden  where  citron- 
trees  standing  in  tubs  were  cared  for  by  an  old  secu- 
lar priest.  The  name  of  this  old  man,  as  well  as  that 
of  the  family  with  whom  he  dwelt,  has  been  ascer- 
tained :  the  house  has  been  divided  and  somewhat  dif- 
ferently arranged  from  what  it  was  formerly.  A  bit  of 
his  life,  however,  we  get  in  a  water-color  by  Tischbein, 
who  at  that  time  belonged  to  the  Goethean  circle  in 
Rome.  He  has  given  us  a  back  view  of  Goethe  as  he 
stands  in  his  shirt-sleeves  looking  out  of  his  window. 

As  another  memorial  of  Goethe's  stay  in  Rome  stands 
a  palm-tree  in  Villa  Malta,  which  was  transplanted  there ; 
while  the  Botanical  Gardens  in  Padua  (as  Paul  Hertz 
says)  are  also  in  possession  of  a  "  palma  di  Goethe," 
the  same  which  attracted  Goethe's  fancy  so  greatly  that 
he  had  a  number  of  branches  cut  off,  which  he  revered, 
even  years  after,  as  fetiches.  Lastly,  an  inn  is  famous 
connected  with  the  Marcellus  Theatre,  which,  according 
to  the  inscription,  was  visited  by  Goethe  (without  doubt 
to  drink  a  better  wine  than  was  offered  me  the  last  time 
I  was  there).  The  latest  personal  reminiscences  of  Goe- 
the in  Rome  are  related  by  the  old  landscape-painter 
Koch,  whom  many  persons  now  living  have  known. 

If  Rome  is  no  longer  the  Rome  it  was  a  hundred  years 
ago,  there  are  memorials  enough  of  its  former  life  to 
give  us  at  least  an  idea  of  it.  The  modernizing  is  lim- 
ited to  certain  parts  of  the  town,  and  in  Rome  proper 
the  old  Italian  economy  prevails  to  a  much  greater  degree 
than  in  Naples  or  Florence.  The  many  families,  and  es- 
pecially among  the  higher  nobles,  who  have  throughout 


ANCIENT   BUILDINGS   IN   ROME.  349 

maintained  their  loyalty  to  the  Papal  government,  have 
helped  greatly  to  preserve  the  outward  appearance  of  the 
city.  We  find  in  the  heart  of  Rome  very  few  either  new 
or  restored  buildings.  As  one  descends  the  Scala  di  Spa- 
gna,  he  looks  upon  the  piazza  beneath  just  as  it  was  cen- 
turies ago,  —  the  stores  of  the  merchants  excepted,  —  and 
in  the  Villa  Ludovisi  or  the  Pamphili  Doria  very  little  has 
been  changed.  The  palaces  still  form  the  capital  letters 
in  the  old  stereotyped  confusion  of  houses,  and  the  dun- 
geon-like basements  meet  us  everywhere  as  odd  relics 
of  former  times.  Travellers  still  go  to  the  old  taverns 
when  they  would  drink  good  wine ;  and  the  nearer  one 
comes  to  the  Vatican,  the  more  the  modern  aspect  of 
things  disappears,  —  in  the  Trastevere,  indeed,  we  seem 
thrown  back  some  hundreds  of  years.  These  dark  pal- 
aces with  their  histories  have  become  like  living  beings, 
who  out  of  the  empty  windows  look  down  upon  the  life 
of  to-day  as  upon  an  insignificant  masquerade  which 
might  be  swept  from  the  boards.  I  never  passed  the 
Palazzo  Farnese,  begun  by  San-Gallo  and  finished  by 
Michael  Angelo,  without  having  this  feeling.  The  build- 
ing stands  there  with  aristocratic  self-consciousness  as 
if  mocking  the  centuries,  and  in  invisible  letters  seems 
inscribed  thereon  :  "  A  hundred  years,  and  again  a 
hundred  years,  shall  I  stand  here  as  to-day,  and  look 
down  upon  the  mortal  men  whose  lives  are  only  a  span 
like  thine."  The  more  one  comes  to  know  these  streets 
and  court-yards,  relics  of  so  many  centuries,  which  now 
close  to  one  another  stand  a  mass  of  decay,  the  stronger 
grows  within  one  the  curious  feeling  with  which  we  go 
about,  borne  as  it  were  beyond  all  historic  computation, 
as  if  there  were  nothing  more  important  to  be  done  in 
the  world  than  to  look  at  all  this  obsolete  glory  and  mag- 
nificence, and  philosophize  over  past  greatness. 


350  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

And  in  face  of  all  this  grand  and  imperishable  material 
a  man's  life  may  glide  away  unawares  amid  these  eternal 
ruins,  only  in  daily  intercourse  with  the  unceasing  stream 
of  travellers  who  come  to  Rome  with  more  or  less  decided 
aims  ;  but  surely  once,  earlier  or  later,  will  he  be  impressed 
with  the  solemn  meaning  of  Destiny,  which  has  here  left 
such  traces  of  its  revolution. 

Not  merely  for  Goethe,  therefore,  was  it  appropriate  to 
speak  of  his  "  second  academic  life "  when  he  would 
describe  his  experience  and  enjoyment  in  Rome.  Every 
one  who  can  live  long  enough  in  Rome  to  study  the  re- 
mains of  the  past  there,  and  at  the  same  time  to  enjoy 
the  present,  will  feel  applicable  to  himself  to-day,  in  a  cer- 
tain sense,  Goethe's  words. 

Never  had  Goethe  belonged  so  wholly  to  himself.  He 
became  so  accustomed  to  living  just  as  he  pleased  that  it 
seemed  to  him  his  normal  state.  Immediately  after  his 
return  from  Naples  he  gives  expression  to  this  :  — 

"  Of  new  thoughts  and  ideas  I  have  enough.  Being  left 
to  myself  I  find  my  youth  again,  even  to  its  4trifles ;  and 
then  the  dignity  and  sublimity  of  my  surroundings  bear  me 
as  high  and  far  as  my  ripest  years  can  reach.  My  eye  is 
wonderfully  cultivated,  and  my  hand  shall  not  remain  be- 
hind. There  is  only  one  Rome  in  the  world  ;  and  I  feel  here 
like  a  fish  in  the  water,  and  swim  to  the  surface  as  a  cannon 
ball  in  quicksilver,  which  would  sink  to  the  bottom  in  any 
other  fluid." 

This  was  the  freedom  which  Winckelmann  would  never 
be  deprived  of  again,  and  for  the  sake  of  which  he  refused 
all  the  advantageous  offers  he  received  from  Germany. 
We  read  of  the  rapture  of  Frenchmen  who  after  a  long 
absence  tread  once  more  the  beloved  pavement  of  the 
streets  of  Paris ;  but  what  is  that  compared  with  the  feel- 
ing with  which  one  is  inspired  in  Rome  ?  The  colossal 


AT   LAST   HE   IS    HOMESICK   IN   KOME  !         351 

weight  of  history  makes  the  individual  humble.  As  we 
speak  softly  in  the  presence  of  the  dead,  although  they  no 
longer  hear  anything,  so  our  thoughts  are  subdued  in 
Rome,  because  the  past  approaches  so  near  to  us  and  is 
so  overpowering ;  and  yet  one  nowhere  realizes  so  truly  as 
in  Rome  the  imperishableness  of  human  greatness,  for 
Raphael  and  Michael  Angelo  seem  as  if  still  living,  and 
only  withdrawn  into  a  solitude  from  which  the  world  is 
not  good  enough  to  tempt  them  to  come  forth  again. 
Nowhere  do  we  seem  to  trace  with  our  own  eyes  the  foot- 
prints of  the  great  men  themselves  as  in  Rome ;  and 
nowhere  is  it  so  imperatively  demanded  of  us  to  occupy 
ourselves  with  them.  In  Naples  and  Florence  the  tumult 
of  the  day  drowns  such  thoughts  :  one  must  isolate  him- 
self who  would  be  absorbed  by  them.  In  Pisa  or  in 
Sienna,  on  the  contrary,  where  everything  is  old,  we  feel 
oppressed,  and  say  instantly  we  shall  remain  only  a  few 
days.  But  in  Rome  we  breathe  easily  the  breath  of  the 
past :  it  awakens  no  oppressive  feeling  of  sadness,  but, 
like  the  apostles  at  the  sarcophagus  of  Mary,  we  seem  to 
see  fresh  roses  and  living  green  springing  from  out  the 
tombs,  and  we  accustom  ourselves,  as  Goethe  says,  to 
converse  with  spirits. 

But  now,  in  the  midst  of  this  transcendent  life,  some- 
thing stirs  within  him,  stronger  than  anything  which 
could  chain  him  to  Rome,  —  home-sickness.  Homeward ! 
Weimar,  which  he  believed  he  had  shaken  off  as  an  un- 
comfortable dream,  begins  to  assume  to  him  another 
aspect ;  for  was  not  all  that  he  knew  and  loved  still 
.there?  "This  egotistical  life,"  he  writes  to  the  Duke, 
"  makes  men  cold  and  overbearing." 

Home  presented  itself  to  Goethe  in  a  new  form.  Wei- 
mar had  for  a  time  been  lost  to  sight ;  but  suddenly  it 
emerges  again.  What  had  grown  old  and  distasteful  to 


352  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

him  takes  on  a  fresh  lustre  ;  his  friends,  whom  he  had 
left  widely  dissevered,  unite  to  form  a  circle  which  is  ex- 
pecting him  ;  he  feels  that  what  he  would  find  in  Weimar, 
his  little  house  and  garden,  is,  after  all,  his  nest  from 
which  he  had  flown.  As  Dante  says,  "  II  disiato  nido," 
to  which  like  the  doves  he  would  return.  He  had  left 
behind  the  Duke,  Fran  von  Stein,  Herder,  Knebel,  and 
many  other  minorum  gentium  who  were  dear  to  him  be- 
cause he  knew  them. 

This  Weimar  rises  again  before  his  view. 

There  is  only  one  thing  which  truly  unites  men  :  it  is 
the  consciousness  that  they  have  known  each  other.  An 
old  rascal  who  knew  my  mother  is  dearer  to  me  than  many 
an  honest  man  who  did  not  know  her.  Goethe  recalls  the 
fate  of  many  a  person  at  home  in  which  he  took  a  special 
interest.  The  thought  seizes  him  that  all  his  present 
experience  is  not  for  himself,  but  only  for  his  W'eimar 
friends.  For  them  he  collects  and  acquires.  He  can  en- 
joy nothing  alone,  nothing  in  Italy,  without  inviting  the 
invisible  distant  circle  to  share  the  enjoyment  with  him. 
One  day  the  feeling  overpowers  him,  and  he  makes  up  his 
mind.  Away  to  Weimar  ! 

Goethe  gives  a  wonderful  description  of  how  sorrow  for 
the  loss  of  Rome  and  a  longing ^  for  home  were  equally 
strong  within  him  ;  how,  from  the  moment  he  decided  to 
depart,  Rome  lay  behind  him,  and  he  really  was  no  longer 
there.  He  pictures  the  last  night,  how  he  wandered  about 
the  Coliseum  in  the  moonlight.  He  quotes  Ovid's  thrill- 
ing verses  in  which,  on  going  into  banishment,  he  takes 
leave  of  Rome.  In  Germany,  later,  the  tears  start  into 
his  eyes  when  he  repeats  them :  this  was  when  he  com- 
pared Weimar  with  Tomi.  He  tells  us  what  arrange- 
ments he  makes  to  work  on  "  Tasso  "  during  his  journey. 
And  now  he  takes  wing  for  home. 


THE  RETURN  TO  WEIMAR.         353 

The  whole  of  April  Goethe  had  enjoyed  in  Rome .;  but, 
before  the  end  of  June,  he  was  again  in  Weimar.  He 
had  been  gone  almost  two  years.  So  much  was  accom- 
plished !  What  now  ?  Although  his  yearning  to  return 
home  had  been  so  very  great,  yet  all  he  could  feel 
on  crossing  again  the  longed-for  threshold  was,  "  Once 
more  crept  under  shelter  in  the  North,"  re-entered  the 
old  prison,  away  from  Rome !  For  what  did  he  find  ? 
All  the  longed-for  persons  together  indeed,  but  with  still 
less  sympathy  with  each  other  than  before,  and  every  one 
of  them  two  years  older.  There  was,  first  of  all,  Frau  von 
Stein.  When  they  became  acquainted,  he  was  twenty- 
six  and  she  thirty-five  ;  now  he  was  almost  forty,  and  she 
nearly  fifty.  There  had  been  no  disagreement  between 
them ;  their  correspondence  had  been  lively :  but  yet 
both  felt  that  the  Ten  Years  belonged  to  memory  as 
something  done  with.  Goethe  had  accustomed  himself, 
while  at  a  distance  from  her,  to  work  out  his  daily 
thoughts  in  his  own  breast.  The  first  period  of  his  re- 
lation to  his  old  friend  had  come  to  an  end,  and  was 
now  a  matter  of  history.  Should  he  once  more  begin 
to  share  all  his  ideas  with  her,  and  to  work  with  her  ? 
Had  he  wished  to  make  the  attempt,  he  would  have  been 
deceiving  himself ;  but  he  did  not  even  wish  it. 

Goethe  found  the  Duke  a  wholly  self-sustained  man  and 
sovereign.  Carl  August  had  reached  the  age  when  we 
do  not  look  upon  any  man  as  absolutely  essential  to  us. 
For  these  two,  also,  their  former  life  had  become  a  thing 
of  the  past.  They  had  wished  it  to  be  so,  and  it  was  so : 
all  had  been  foreseen.  On  the  other  hand,  something 
came  in  which  had  not  been  foreseen.  Carl  August  so 
far  took  advantage  of  the  past  as  to  continue  to  treat 
Goethe  with  a  certain  cordial  familiarity  to  which  Goethe 
could  not  respond.  By  so  doing,  the  Duke  had  a  color  on 

23 


354  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

his  palette  which  did  not  stand  at  Goethe's  command  ;  and 
the  consequence  was  that  Goethe  clung  the  more  inviolably 
to  all  the  forms  of  respect.  He  could  not  be  tempted  in 
any  way  to  break  through  them.  The  Duke  knew  how  to 
contrive  inducements  enough,  but  Goethe  withstood  them 
all.  Nevertheless,  empty  and  uninteresting  must  this 
play  appear  to  him  which,  man  against  man,  was  hence- 
forth day  by  day  to  be  continued,  and  which  could  lead  to 
nothing  in  the  future.  All  it  amounted  to  for  Goethe 
was  that  he  behaved  in  every  case  as  judiciously  as  possi- 
ble, and  said  to  himself  that  no  guarantee  was  given  for 
the  future.  How  correctly  he  judged  was  fully  confirmed 
by  the  incidents  of  later  years. 

In  both  these  cases  Goethe  had  lost.  In  his  relation  to 
Herder  only  was  there  a  gain. 

Herder's  character  to  those  who  stood  nearest  to  him 
was  an  enigma ;  and  he  had  either  blind  partisans  or 
so-called  friends  who  shook  their  heads.  There  was  a 
want  of  harmony  in  his  nature.  Jacobi  writes  in  1788  : 
"  Unfortunately  Nature  has  not  mixed  the  elements  in 
him  happily.  Vultu  mutabilis  albus  et  ater.  "Whatever 
he  takes  up  is  sure  to  burst  and  disgust  him  at  once. 
There  was  hardly  ever  a  man  who  made  others  feel  so 
uncomfortable."  The  expression  "  burst "  was  probably 
suggested  by  a  comparison  of  Goethe's  in  earlier  days, 
where  he  speaks  of  "  Herder's  everlasting  blowing  of 
soap-bubbles." 

But  Herder  knew  himself  very  well,  —  knew  how  insuf- 
ferable he  could  become  to  himself  and  to  others.  In  the 
year  1769,  before  coming  to  Germany,  he  had  written 
about  himself :  "  My  spring  steals,  unenjoyed,  away.  My 
fruits  were  too  early  ripe  and  untimely."  Still  more  un- 
favorably he  judges  himself  in  a  letter  to  his  betrothed 
in  the  following  year.  Herder's  correspondence  shows 


UNHAPPY   PECULIARITIES.          355 

wherein  the  trouble  lay.  His  great  devotion  to  others 
was  outdone  by  a  still  greater  egotism.  He  was  capable 
of  doing  much  for  his  friends,  but  never  in  such  a  way  as  to 
forget  himself  at  the  same  time ;  and,  amid  his  greatest 
joy  at  the  achievements  of  others,  something  like  a  feeling 
of  jealousy  always  persecuted  him,  as  if  he  himself  ought 
to  have  been  the  originator  of  the  thought  or  work. 

No  one  understood  Herder  so  well  as  Goethe,  who  spoke 
of  him  after  his  death  quite  impartially  and  in  the  most 
beautiful  manner.  "  With  illness,"  Goethe  says,  u  his 
malevolent  spirit  of  contradiction  and  critical  tone  in- 
creased, until  it  dulled  his  inestimable  capacity  for  IOT- 
ing,  and  overclouded  his  singular  lovableness.  No  one 
approached  him  without  rejoicing  in  his  benignity,  nor 
left  him  without  being  wounded  by  him."  Extraordi- 
nary meaning  is  contained  in  these  few  words. 

The  words  "capacity  for  loving"  seem  specially  in- 
vented for  him,  and  "  lovableness,"  the  attraction  Her- 
der had  for  every  one  ;  but  the  closing  antithesis  is,  at 
the  same  time,  the  hardest  thing  which  could  have  been 
said.  If  we  would  judge  Herder  dispassionately,  we  must 
examine  those  of  his  letters  which  afforded  the  least  op- 
portunity for  any  kind  of  aesthetic  effect.  These  are,  in 
my  opinion,  to  be  found  in  his  early  correspondence  with 
the  bookseller  Hartknoch,  a  very  honest  man  who  sincerely 
revered  Herder.  They  convince  us  that  Herder  had  a 
very  uncertain  temper.  He  often  gives  vent  to  his  ill 
humor  to  this  simple,  friendly  man  of  business.  Just  so 
had  he  treated  Goethe  himself  when,  working  on  "  Gotz," 
he  awaited  with  so  much  confidence  Herder's  infallible 
judgment.  We  must  indeed  take  into  consideration  that 
a  man  like  Herder  might  be  allowed  to  bring  a  certain  in- 
tentional pressure  to  bear  upon  a  young  upstart,  who  so 
visibly  was  preparing  to  grow  over  his  head ;  but  what 


356  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

makes  Herder's  conduct  so  hateful  to  us  is  his  settled 
purpose  to  do  so,  contrasted  with  Goethe's  frank,  unsus- 
picious heart. 

Herder  had  never  perhaps  been  more  favorably  disposed 
towards  Goethe  than  in  1788.  Goethe's  "  Iphigenia " 
had  met  with  only  a  problematical  success  ;  while  Herder's 
"  Ideen "  had  been  a  grand,  bold  stroke,  which  made 
Goethe  himself  again,  in  a  certain  sense,  his  scholar.  In 
Goethe's  judgment,  Herder  never  produced  anything  bet- 
ter than  this  book.  Herder  felt  once  more  that  lie  was 
something  to  Goethe,  and  nothing  chains  men  so  closely 
to  one  another  as  such  a  consciousness.  The  benefits  I 
bestow,  not  those  I  receive,  bind  me. 

Goethe  had  felt  in  Rome  the  need  of  a  grander  concep- 
tion of  history.  Herder  now,  for  the  second  time,  opened 
his  eyes,  as  he  had  done  before  in  Strasburg.  Goethe 
was  indebted  to  Herder  for  not  finding  Weimar  quite  un- 
endurable after  Rome ;  and  it  was  owing  to  Herder  that 
Goethe's  intention  to  return  to  Italy  was  not  carried  out. 

But  all  this  is  only  secondary  to  the  tilings  of  which 
we  are  now  to  speak.  Goethe  found  on  his  return  to 
Germany  that  not  only  had  the  old  become  older,  but 
that  he  had  something  new  to  encounter. 

In  Italy  first  broke  out  his  sovereign  contempt  for  the 
German  public,  which  he  never  lost  again.  The  cool  re- 
ception of  "  Iphigenia  "  was  to  him  a  token  that  he  was 
forgotten ;  and  he  returned  this  forgetting  in  full  meas- 
ure. But  the  real  cause  of  it  dawned  upon  him  only  when 
he  came  to  see  with  his  own  eyes  what  had  happened.  A 
new  generation  of  authors  had  arisen.  Goethe  had  ceased 
to  belong  to  the  younger  generation,  on  whom  the  hopes 
of  the  people  rested  with  fond  expectation. 

It  was  in  the  year  1788.  In  France  the  pulse  of  the 
people  was  already  feverish.  In  Germany,  also,  men  were 


HE   FINDS    SCHILLER   IN   WEIMAR.  357 

less  inclined  than  ever  in  literary  matters  to  give  them- 
selves up  to  the  enjoyment  of  pure  beauty  refined  by  the 
study  of  the  antique.  They  had  never  attached  any 
special  value  to  the  form :  the  subject-matter  must  sur- 
prise, inspire,  intoxicate.  Young  writers  had  appeared 
who  satisfied  these  demands.  One  among  them,  the 
most  distinguished,  is  so  great  that  we  can  pass  over  all 
the  others  ;  and  this  author  was  living  in  Weimar  when 
Goethe  returned,  —  Schiller. 

If  any  one  had  anxiously  awaited  Goethe's  arrival,  it 
was  Schiller  ;  if  any  one  was  conscious  of  Goethe's  whole 
power,  it  was  Schiller ;  and  if  there  had  ever  been  a  time 
in  Goethe's  life  less  appropriate  than  another  for  his 
meeting  with  a  man  like  Schiller,  it  was  at  the  moment 
of  his  return  from  Italy  :  and  therefore  we  shall  see  what 
the  result  was  when  this  meeting  could  no  longer  be 
avoided. 

It  is  not  here  my  intention  to  give  a  biography  of 
Schiller,  any  more  than  it  has  been  to  give  one  of  Goethe 
himself.  I  only  say  —  though  I  consider  even  this  super- 
fluous —  that  Schiller,  born  in  1759,  was  ten  years  young- 
er than  Goethe.  He  was  a  Wiirtemberger,  a  Suabian,  a 
South- German ;  while  Goethe  might  be  called  a  North- 
German.  Schiller's  father  held  a  small  office  under  the 
Government.  He  himself  speaks  of  his  youth  as  having 
been  "  dreary "  and  "  joyless."  We  need  not  trouble 
ourselves  here  with  the  tenor  of  his  early  days  ;  for  they 
form  no  prologue,  as  with  Goethe,  to  his  later  history ; 
it  would  be  better  altogether  if  we  knew  nothing  about 
them.  Neither  did  Schiller's  outward  experiences  form 
the  elements  of  his  poems,  as  with  Goethe.  Schiller 
might  have  trod  wholly  other  paths,  and  he  would  yet 
have  handled  his  material  in  the  same  way  ;  and  if  he  had 
not  had  the  same  material  he  would  have  chosen  other, 


S58  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

which  in  his  hands  would  have  had  the  same  captivating 
effect.  Concerning  Schiller's  works,  the  question  subse- 
quently will  not  be  so  much  with  regard  to  their  special 
contents,  as  whether  his  health  was  sufficient  to  enable 
him  to  carry  out  his  plans.  The  one  real  event  in  Schil- 
ler's life  was  his  meeting  with  Goethe. 

No  one  of  Schiller's  works  had  an  individual  history, 
like  all  of  Goethe's.  I  have  compared  "  Iphigenia  "  to  a 
fir-tree  which  was  metamorphosed  into  a  pine ;  and  it 
would  be  easy  to  find  for  each  of  Goethe's  pieces,  even  to 
his  smallest  poems,  a  botanical  simile,  —  fragrant  lindens 
in  "  Werther,"  oak-trees  rustling  in  "  Gotz,"  and  so 
forth.  In  Schiller  these  differences  are  lost :  a  tree  is  a 
tree  to  him  all  the  same  whether  it  has  round  or  involuted 
leaves.  Instead  of  speaking  of  the  fragrance  of  the  firs 
or  lindens,  he  brings  in  more  general  conceptions  ;  he 
knows  shady,  wide-spreading,  firm,  deeply-rooted,  cloud- 
piercing,  lightning-shivered  trees,  but  enlarges  on  no 
other  distinctions.  He  removes  us  to  such  a  distance 
that  botanical  details  disappear,  and  we  see  only  great 
masses  before  us.  It  is  the  impression  of  the  scene  as 
a  whole  which  remains ;  and  such  is  the  effect  of  his 
works.  It  is  comparatively  indifferent  to  him  what  the 
solitary  reader  who  approaches  his  work  closely,  witli 
refined  perceptions,  may  think  of  it :  he  wishes  to  thrill 
masses  of  readers,  and  the  individual  interests  him  only 
so  far  as  he  is  a  part  of  them.  Schiller  would  inspire  a 
whole  nation  with  a  power  which  unites  and  an  enthusi- 
asm which  elevates  them :  his  public  shall  be  counted  by 
thousands.  Goethe  was  always  satisfied  to  have  a  few 
friends  who  understood  him ;  and  it  was  indifferent  to 
him  who  afterwards  shared  in  the  enjoyment.  One 
might  apply  to  Goethe  the  illustration  he  himself  makes 
use  of  in  "  Wilhelm  Meister,"  —  "He  went  out  to  seek 


SCHILLER   AND    GOETHE    COMPARED.  359 

his  father's  asses,  and  found  a  kingdom."  All  Goethe's 
works  arose  in  this  way,  —  their  extraordinary  popularity 
came  unexpectedly ;  and  where  it  seemed  as  if  he  had 
reckoned  upon  it,  as  in  "  Werther,"  the  anticipation  has 
more  the  character  of  a  childlike,  joyous  impatience  than 
a  man's  sober  calculations  based  on  a  clear  knowledge  of 
his  public.  When,  on  the  other  hand,  Schiller  won  king- 
doms, he  had  had  them  clearly  in  his  eye  from  the  outset. 
Read  his  correspondence  with  Gotta:  he  is  always  full 
of  enormous  undertakings,  many  volumes,  contributors, 
great  advertisements,  vast  profits,  and  a  distinct  plan, 
with  estimates  beforehand  of  all  the  chances.  Schiller 
was  a  poet  and  man  of  letters  in  the  sense  of  Voltaire. 
He  sees  that  he  needs  a  faction  ;  he  coins  his  gold,  not 
into  medals,  like  Goethe,  but  into  ready  money  which  is 
thrown  upon  the  market  by  millions. 

In  Goethe's  poems  we  feel  with  every  lightest  breath 
from  whence  it  comes ;  we  are  fanned  by  the  air  of  the 
south  and  the  strong  sea-breeze  which  blows  over  the 
Greek  Sea  to  "  Iphigenia  ; "  we  catch  the  fragrance  of 
the  laurel  hedges  and  the  orange  groves  of  Ferrara ; 
we  inhale  pure  draughts  of  the  Rhine-valley  air  as  we 
read  Goethe's  letters  about  the  Strasburg  Cathedral.  In 
Schiller  we  feel  only  the  dynamic  power  of  the  storm,  all 
the  same  whether  the  wind  comes  from  the  north  or  the 
south.  Goethe's  poems  were  occasional :  his  fruits  ripened 
in  proportion  to  the  sun  that  shone  on  them.  Schiller 
had  no  time  to  wait  for  that :  he  built  a  hot-house  to  pro- 
tect his  fruit-trees  in  rough  weather,  that  there  might  be 
no  interruption  in  their  growth,  and  heated  it  up  when 
the  sun  did  not  shine. 

Schiller  demanded  freedom.  He  forced  his  sickly  body : 
the  spirit  should  have  complete  control  over  his  intel- 
lectual working-power.  With  him  was  no  hesitation,  no 


360  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

patient  waiting  till  the  hand  of  Fate  beckoned  him  on, 
none  of  the  somnambulism  of  Goethe :  he  tore  off  reck- 
lessly the  fetters  which  bound  him  to  real  life.  Hence  in 
youth  his  wild  conduct,  —  debts,  flight,  the  notion  of  be- 
ing ill-treated  and  hunted  down  by  barbarous  Fate ;  the 
restless  search  for  human  sympathy  ;  the  clinging  to  the 
first  persons  who  offer  him  friendship.  Goethe's  ante- 
chamber was  always  full  of  people :  he  needed  only  to 
beckon,  and  they  burst  through  the  doors  to  greet  him ; 
if  he  felt  lonely,  it  was  only  a  question  of  satisfying  the 
higher  claims  he  made  in  his  intercourse  with  men. 
Schiller,  on  the  other  hand,  was  bitterly  destitute  and 
forsaken  ;  he  looks  down  the  long  streets  in  which  there 
is  no  one  who  troubles  himself  about  him  ;  he  offers  his 
hat  to  Fortune,  and  accepts  gratefully  the  poorest  coins 
she  drops  into  it.  In  Dresden  there  was  one  Councillor 
Kb'rner,  with  his  wife  and  sister,  —  good,  honest,  educated, 
enthusiastic  people :  they  feel  impelled  to  write  to  Schil- 
ler. How  eagerly  we  see  him  snatch  at  this  !  how  thirst- 
ily he  puts  the  proffered  wine  to  his  lips !  A  sincere 
friendship  springs  up,  and  the  people  who  had  very  little 
to  spare  lend  him  money. 

This  was  not  the  way  to  win  Goethe.  Long  before  he 
had  arrived  at  Schiller's  time  of  life,  he  knew  all  the 
wines  in  the  cellar  of  mankind,  and  tasted  carefully  ere 
he  drank.  Goethe  might  go  comfortably  from  one  place 
to  another,  while  Schiller  was  shoved  by  Fate  from  spot 
to  spot.  He  flies  from  the  service  of  a  tyrannical  prince  ; 
does  not  find  a  new  home  in  Mannheim ;  goes  into  the 
country,  where  he  is  hospitably  received ;  on  to  Leipsic, 
Dresden,  everywhere  pursued  by  debts,  and  reaches  Wei- 
mar finally,  with  nothing  but  an  empty  title  conferred 
upon  him  by  the  Duke,  just  to  try  if  he  can  maintain  him- 
self there.  Always  the  same  old  story :  work  from  day  to 


SCHILLEK  EAGER  TO  MEET  GOETHE.    361 

day,  in  order  to  live ;  oppressed  by  debt,  conscious  of 
having  made  his  poor,  cramped  family  more  wretched  by 
his  desertion ;  tired  out  and  discouraged  in  the  vain  at- 
tempt to  find  men  such  as  he  had  dreamed  of. 

Only  one  thing  sustains  him,  —  the  consciousness  of  a 
mighty  power  of  achievement.  It  became  almost  indif- 
ferent to  Schiller  at  last  for  what  he  used  his  pen,  — 
whether  in  the  direction  of  History  or  Poetry ;  he  knew 
that  whenever  he  willed  it  he  could  write  something 
which  would  be  sure  to  be  a  success.  Well  might  he 
be  proud  of  this,  and  count  himself  among  the  great 
of  the  earth  ! 

He  cherished  only  one  grand  expectation, — the  meet- 
ing with  Goethe,  whose  return  was  looked  for  and  talked 
of  by  every  one  at  the  time  Schiller  settled  in  Weimar. 
Whatever  Goethe  did  formed  the  subject  of  first  and 
greatest  interest  to  the  Weimar  people ;  but  no  one  knew 
when  his  return  would  be.  Everybody  missed  him,  even 
those  who  did  not  confess  it.  From  Schiller's  letters  we 
learn  what  barren  ground  Weimar  was  after  Goethe 
turned  his  back  upon  it.  He  pictures  the  society  there, 
describes  the  distinguished  people  with  whom  he  became 
acquainted,  the  houses  at  which  he  visited.  Like  Goethe 
on  his  first  coming,  Schiller  also  found  himself  in  horri- 
ble loneliness,  —  only  that  his  work  burned  under  his  fin- 
gers, and  his  money  often  slipped  away,  even  to  the  last 
groschen.  What  more  natural  than  the  thought  that  all 
this  would  be  changed  for  the  better  as  soon  as  Goethe 
returned  ?  We  see  how  eagerly  he  looks  out  for  news  of 
him.  He  considers  himself  of  significance  enough  to 
suppose  that  Goethe  is  stirred  with  some  desire  to  meet 
him. 

Schiller  had  already  seen  Goethe,  —  when,  on  the  Swiss 
journey  with  the  Duke,  in  the  year  1779,  he  had  touched 


362  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

at  Stuttgard.  Schiller,  a  charity  scholar,  standing  among 
the  others,  saw  Goethe  pass  by  him  in  the  stiff  cos- 
tume prescribed  by  the  court.  Goethe  was  at  that  time 
at  the  height  of  his  youthful  repown :  he  made  a  great 
impression  upon  Schiller.  The  next  year,  upon  the  birth- 
day of  his  patron,  "  Clavigo "  was  performed  by  the 
pupils  of  the  Karl-school,  and  Schiller  played  Clavigo. 
At  that  time  he  was  twenty-one  years  of  age,  and  had 
just  finished  "  The  Robbers."  In  the  same  year  he  was 
made  surgeon  of  a  regiment ;  and  in  the  midst  of  the 
maddest  life  the  printing  of  "  The  Robbers  "  was  begun 
on  borrowed  money. 

Schiller  dreamed  of  no  Goethean  career.  He  never 
expected  to  become  the  friend  of  a  prince  or  a  compan- 
ion of  nobles : .  he  simply  wanted  to  write  for  the  stage  ; 
would  descend  into  the  arena  and  fight  his  way  to  the 
great  public.  No  quiet  pressure  of  the  hand  here  and 
there  for  him ;  but  clapping,  weeping,  trembling  on  all 
sides,  should  attest  his  success !  When  Schiller  ran 
away,  the  stage  was  his  natural  aim ;  and  in  becoming 
a  stage-writer  he  considered  himself  to  have  taken  the 
first  step  towards  attaining  the  object  of  his  ambition. 
But  the  illusion  did  not  last  long,  and  blow  upon  blow 
followed  the  disappointments  in  the  life  he  had  so  eagerly 
adopted. 

In  1785  Schiller  had  become  acquainted  with  Carl  Au- 
gust in  Darmstadt,  when  Goethe  was  not  with  the  Duke. 
Up  to  that  time  he  had  published  "  The  Robbers," 
"  Fiesco,"  and  "  Cabal  and  Love."  He  read  aloud  to 
the  Duke  the  first  act  of  "  Don  Carlos,"  and  had  a  con- 
versation with  him  ;  and  for  this  the  title  of  "  Councillor 
of  the  Duke  of  Weimar  "  was  awarded  him. 

We  are  not  told  whether  this  matter  passed  through 
Goethe's  hands. 


SCHILLER   FINDS   A   HOME   IN   WEIMAR.        363 

After  this,  in  the  April  of  1785,  Schiller,  on  his  way  to 
Leipsic,  finished  at  Gohlis  the  "  Don  Carlos,"  and,  as  he 
could  not  support  himself  there,  sought  in  September  a 
home  with  his  friend  Korner  in  Dresden.  From  Dresden, 
in  July,  1787,  he  went  to  Weimar,  and  had  been  there  a 
full  year  before  Goethe  returned. 


364  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 


LECTURE    XIX. 

SCHILLER    AND   GOETHE.  —  THEIR   ESTRANGEMENT. 

the  18th  of  June,  1788,  at  ten  o'clock  in  the  even- 
ing,  just  as  the  full  moon  was  rising,  Goethe  once 
more  arrived  in  Weimar,  —  "the  aristocratic  Roman," 
as  Herder  said.  We  see  how  a  demon  put  something 
insulting  into  the  mouth  of  this  man  at  the  very  moment 
when  he  most  heartily  revered  Goethe.  Herder  called 
Goethe's  letters  "  great  dishes  with  broad  edges  and 
trifling  contents."  Herder  best  knew  how  little  Goethe 
pretended  to  be  "  aristocratic,"  and  just  now  when  his 
longing  for  his  friends  had  brought  him  back  how  very 
much  he  preferred  being  a  Weimarian  to  a  Roman. 

Schiller  was  at  that  time  in  the  country  at  Folkstadt 
near  Rudolstadt.  He  had  become  acquainted  with  the 
Lengefelds,  and  for  the  first  time,  after  the  homelessness 
of  his  whole  life,  thoughts  began  to  dawn  upon  him  of 
making  a  home  of  his  own.  Nothing  more  bleak  and 
sterile  could  be  imagined  than  the  circumstances  by 
which  he  was  surrounded  at  that  time.  The  letters 
written  to  Korner  at  this  period  are  the  saddest  and  the 
most  despairing  he  ever  wrote.  This  explains  the  rapture 
he  felt  at  the  hearty  fraternal  reception  given  him  by  the 
family  of  Lengefeld. 

A  week  before  Goethe's  arrival  in  Weimar,  Schiller 
had  sent  Korner  word  from  Folkstadt  that  Goethe  was 


SCHILLER  TO  KORNER  ABOUT  GOETHE.   365 

expected.  "  We  are  eager  to  know  whether  he  will  re- 
main." July  3,  some  time  after  Goethe's  appearance 
in  Weimar,  Schiller,  still  at  Folkstadt,  writes  to  Korner : 
"  Goethe  has  now  been  in  Weimar  a  fortnight.  They 
find  him  little  changed.  What  further  will  become  of 
him  no  one  knows."  Again,  three  weeks  later,  July  27 : 
"  I  have  heard  nothing  from  Weimar  for  some  weeks ; 
but  one  of  these  days  Frau  von  Stein  will  come,  who  will 
give  me  an  account  of  Goethe."  This  sounds  quite 
unconcerned ;  but  one  feels  how  Schiller  is  trying  to  re- 
strain himself  in  writing  Korner :  nevertheless  in  the 
postscript  his  excitement  breaks  out :  "I  am  very 
curious  about  him  —  about  Goethe  ;  in  truth  at  bottom  I 
like  him,  and  there  are  few  whose  mind  I  so  reverence  ; 
perhaps  he  will  come  hither,  at  least  as  far  as  Kochberg, 
a  short  mile  from  here,  where  Frau  von  Stein  has  a 
country  house."  The  style  here  betrays  at  every  turn 
Schiller's  feeling.  "Curious"  should  be  "burning  with 
impatience  ;  "  curiosity  indicates  intense*  expectation,  but 
with  composure ;  curiosity,  moreover,  says  that  an  un- 
biassed criticism  is  reserved  ;  and  lastly  curiosity  excludes 
all  idea  of  inferiority.  Further,  "  at  bottom  I  like  him"  is 
as  much  as  to  say :  "  I  vacillate  in  a  way  inexplicable  to 
myself  between  like  and  dislike  ;  "  and  when  he  speaks  of 
revering  Goethe's  mind,  it  shows  that  any  opinion  of  his 
heart,  temperament,  and  whatever  else  constitutes  person- 
ality is  withheld.  From  this  last  sentence  we  see  with 
what  certainty  he  anticipated  a  meeting  with  him,  and  an 
eventful  one ;  and  from  his  putting  all  this  into  a  post- 
script that  he  had  tried  carefully  not  to  say  a  word  about 
it  to  Korner,  and  that  almost  against  his  will  it  had  over- 
flowed from  his  pen  at  last. 

Schiller  admired  Goethe  ;  he  fully  appreciated  both  his 
intrinsic  superiority  and  his  immense  influence  over  oth- 


366  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

ers.  That  a  man  like  Goethe  should  come  to  Weimar 
without  taking  any  notice  of  Schiller  was,  all  things  con- 
sidered, inconceivable ;  but  if  it  proved  so,  Schiller  felt 
that  he  would  be  obliged  for  the  sake  of  his  own  reputa- 
tion to  take  a  decided  stand.  Schiller  was  a  writer  who 
understood  his  trade  perfectly.  To  bow  before  Goethe,  to 
make  the  first  advances,  would  not  have  been  hard  for 
him  ;  but  who  would  guarantee  how  Goethe  would  accept 
this  ?  And  therefore  nothing  remained  for  him  but,  set- 
ting aside  all  personal  like  or  dislike,  to  make  clear  to 
himself  how  he  was  to  maintain  his  position. 

Things,  however,  turned  out  quite  differently.  Since 
nothing  was  heard  from  Goethe,  Schiller  secretly  within 
himself  began  to  capitulate.  His  letters  to  Korner 
show  this  ;  if  Goethe  had  gone  to  Kochberg,  Schiller 
would  have  had  no  objection  to  presenting  himself 
there  also.  They  would  then  have  come  from  differ- 
ent sides  to  meet  each  other.  But  Goethe  did  not  go  to 
Kochberg ;  and  truly  Schiller,  less  than  almost  any  one 
else,  could  suspect  the  reason  why,  —  for  how  could  he, 
waiting  in  Folkstadt,  know  what  had  occurred  during  his 
absence  between  Goethe  and  Frau  von  Stein  ? 

From  their  first  meeting,  Frau  von  Stein  had  noticed 
the  change  that  had  come  over  Goethe.  She  did  not  un- 
derstand it,  and  indeed  how  could  it  be  anything  but 
incomprehensible  to  her  ?  Goethe's  letters  had  kept  up 
the  fiction  of  the  old  intimacy ;  and  now  he  was  at  her 
side  cold,  constrained,  evasive,  reserved,  and  disinclined 
to  talk  freely  on  any  subject.  Frau  von  Stein  did  not 
know  that,  in  scarcely  three  weeks  after  his  return,  Chris- 
tiane  had  already  taken  possession  of  Goethe.  This 
relation  was  at  first  veiled  in  the  deepest  secrecy.  Some 
poems  in  trochaic  measure,  which  more  than  any  other 
seems  fitted  to  express  love  and  longing,  contain  the  ideal- 


COOLNESS    TOWARDS    FRAU   VON    STEIN.       367 

ized  story  of  his  clandestine  intercourse  with  Christiane, 
—  how  he  went  to  her,  how  she  came  to  him,  how  he 
expected  her  !  All  his  thoughts  were  given  to  this  beau- 
tiful maiden.  Finally  Frau  von  Stein  could  bear  the  re- 
straint no  longer,  and  attempted  by  force  to  wring  from 
him  an  explanation.  But  Goethe  knew  how  to  evade  it. 
A  week  before  Schiller's  tidings  to  Korner  that  Goethe 
was  expected  in  Kochberg,  he  had  sent  a  note  to  Frau  von 
Stein  ending  with  the  following :  "  I  may  truly  say  that 
my  innermost  condition  does  not  correspond  to  my  out- 
ward behavior.'5  We  see  that  Goethe  realized  himself 
how  inexplicable  his  conduct  must  appear  to  Frau  von 
Stein ;  that  he  not  only  declines  to  explain  it,  but  is  satis- 
fied with  writing  a  sentence,  by  way  of  excuse,  in  which  he 
clearly  enough  signifies  that  on  the  matter  in  question  he 
is  resolved  to  remain  silent.  This  was  too  much  for  Frau 
von  Stein,  and  she  left  Weimar.  Goethe  certainly  had 
no  intention  now  to  follow  her  to  Kochberg ;  and,  so  far 
as  Schiller  was  concerned,  it  only  occasionally  entered 
Goethe's  mind  that  such  a  person  was  in  the  world.  He 
lived  in  recollections  of  Italy,  wrote  on  the  "  Tasso,"  con- 
fined himself  in  secret  to  Christiane,  who  was  the  confidant 
of  his  botanical  studies,  and  sought  "  to  live  on  in  this 
way  in  Weimar,  although  it  was  indeed  a  curious  task." 
A  letter  to  Frau  von  Stein,  July  22,  betrays  his  state  of 
mind  :  "  May  you,"  he  concludes,  "  in  quiet  Kochberg,  be 
contented  and  remarkably  well."  It  would  have  been  im- 
possible for  him  ten  years  earlier  to  have  approached  his 
beloved  friend  with  such  a  stereotyped  phrase,  which  in- 
deed implies  the  secret  wish  that  Frau  von  Stein  may  as 
long  as  possible  find  herself  contented  and  well  away 
from  Weimar.  And  therefore  Frau  von  Stein  had  long 
been  in  Kochberg  when  Schiller  wrote  to  Korner  that  she 
was  expected,  but  Goethe  did  not  follow  her. 


368  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

Schiller  waits  a  month,  and  again  in  a  letter  written  at 
the  end  of  August  Goethe  is  spoken  of:  — 

"  I  have  not  yet  seen  Goethe,  but  greetings  have  been  ex- 
changed between  us.  He  would  have  visited  me  on  his  route 
to  Weimar  had  he  known  that  I  was  so  near.  We  were 
within  an  hour  of  one  another.  It  is  said  he  is  not  devoting 
himself  to  bnsiness  affairs  at  all.  The  Duchess  has  gone  to 
Italy,  but  Goethe  remains  in  Weimar.  I  am  impatient  to 
see  him." 

Schiller  had  considered  the  matter  so  much  that  he  stops 
with  the  simple  truth  contained  in  this  last  sentence. 

And  now,  at  last,  this  impatience  was  to  be  relieved. 
Goethe  in  the  beginning  of  September  appeared  in  Rudol- 
stadt,  at  the  house  of  Frau  von  Lengefeld,  afterward 
Schiller's  mother-in-law. 

Herder's  wife,  Frau  von  Stein,  and  her  mother  Frau 
von  Schardt  were  there,  beside  the  three  Lengefeld  ladies, 
—  the  mother,  Lottchen,  later  Schiller's  wife,  and  the 
sister  Caroline  von  Wolzogen,  or  von  Beulwitz  (which 
was  her  name  by  her  first  marriage  at  that  time),  who 
later  became  Schiller's  biographer. 

In  Schiller's  imagination  Goethe  was  still  the  same  be- 
ing he  had  seen  ten  years  before,  for  the  first  and  only 
time  in  Stuttgart,  "  when  he  had  devoured  him  with  his 
eyes."  September  12,  he  writes  to  Korner :  — 

"At  last  I  can  tell  you  of  Goethe,  about  whom  I  know  you 
are  eager  to  hear.  I  spent  nearly  the  whole  of  last  Monday  in 
his  company,  when  he  visited  us,  with  Herder's  wife,  Frau  von 
Stein,  and  Frau  von  Schardt.  The  first  look  at  him  disap- 
pointed the  high  conception  I  had  been  led  to  form  of  this 
attractive  and  handsome  man.  He  is  of  middle  height,  with 
a  stiff  carriage  and  bearing.  His  face  is  not  an  open  one  ; 
but  his  eyes  are  animated  and  full  of  expression,  and  his 


FIEST  MEETING  OF  SCHILLER  AND  GOETHE.    369 

glance  is  captivating.  Though  there  is  much  seriousness  in 
his  mien,  it  is  still  full  of  goodness  and  benevolence.  He 
has  a  brunette  complexion,  and  seemed  to  me  to  look  older 
than  he  is,  according  to  my  calculation.  His  voice  is  ex- 
tremely agreeable.  He  is  fluent,  and  when  in  good  humor, 
as  was  specially  the  case  this  day,  talks  willingly  and  with 
interest.  We  soon  became  acquainted,  and  without  the  least 
effort :  indeed,  the  party  was  too  large  and  each  one  too 
jealously  intent  on  being  near  him  to  admit  of  our  being 
much  alone,  or  talking  of  anything  beyond  the  subjects  of 
general  interest.  He  speaks  gladly,  and  with  passionate 
longing,  of  Italy.  What  he  has  told  me  has  given  me  most 
striking  and  vivid  pictures  of  this  country  and  its  people." 

Here  we  see  again  how  much  the  style  betrays  Schil- 
ler's thoughts.  We  feel  the  intention  to  write  justly  and 
free  from  prejudice,  but  that  a  feeling  of  deep  disappoint- 
ment and  depression  gains  the  mastery.  Schiller  had  be- 
lieved that  something  special  would  be  the  result  of  this 
meeting.  Instead  of  that,  it  had  passed  off  quite  indiffer- 
ently. Korrier  did  not  reply  to  this  part  of  the  letter, 
and  only  remarked,  not  without  a  certain  satisfaction  it 
would  seem :  "  Goethe's  meeting  with  you  turned  out  much 
as  I  thought  it  would.  Time  will  show  whether  you  will 
yet  come  nearer  to  one  another.  Friendship  I  do  not  ex- 
pect, but  friction  and  mutual  interest."  In  Goethe's  let- 
ters written  at  this  time  we  find  no  allusion  to  this  meet- 
ing. Schiller  is  referred  to  only  once,  and  then  his  name 
is  purposely  withheld. 

The  occasion  for  this  reference  to  him,  however,  was 
not  insignificant. 

There  had  appeared  at  this  time  a  new  volume  of 
Goethe's  collected  works,  which  contained  "  Egmont. " 
"  Egmont,"  begun  in  Frankfort,  and  continued  from  time 
to  time  in  Weimar,  gained  a  new  form  in  Rome, — the  only 

24 


370  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

one  in  which  we  know  it,  for  no  portion  of  the  earlier 
manuscript  has  ever  been  published.  It  would  seem  as  if 
in  the  Frankfort  version  of  it  the  Biirger  element  in  the 
politics  of  the  time,  and  the  relation  between  Clara  and 
Brackenburg,  had  stood  more  in  the  foreground.  But 
this  is  mere  guesswork.  Whether  the  Regent  first  came 
into  the  piece  in  Weimar,  suggested  by  the  Duchess 
mother,  and  other  questions,  we  leave  here  untouched : 
only  this  we  know,  that  even  Clarchen  in  the  finished 
manuscript,  which  was  sent  from  Rome  to  Weimar  to  be 
printed,  found  no  favor,  and  Goethe  had  to  defend  the 
character. 

Goethe's  new  volume  had  been  sent  to  Schiller  for  crit- 
icism, and  he  went  at  the  work.  Not  long  after  this  first 
meeting  with  Goethe  his  article  appeared,  and  like  every 
literary  production  at  that  time  made  much  talk. 

Goethe  read  the  criticism.  He  was  again  reminded 
that  his  day  was  over,  and  that  the  time  had  come  in 
which,  as  lie  says  himself,  "  the  German  public  knew 
nothing  more  of  him."  A  new  generation  had  sprung  up 
for  whom  Goethe's  subtile  heroes  no  longer  possessed 
anything  heroic. 

Egmont  maybe  called  the  tenderly-nurtured  aristocratic 
twin  brother  of  Gotz  von  Berlichingen,  —  a  man  who  fol- 
lows implicitly  the  dictates  of  his  own  noble  nature,  which 
becomes  the  ruler  of  his  destiny.  He  allows  the  impulses 
of  the  moment  to  decide  for  him :  he  is  passive  in  the 
sense  of  passive  nature.  Egmont  is  like  a  luxuriant  fruit- 
tree  which  has  no  protection  against  a  sudden  chill  in 
spring,  which  freezes  all  its  young  shoots.  Gotz  and  Eg- 
mont offer  themselves  to  Fate,  and  accept  good  or  bad 
weather  without  murmuring.  In  this  unconditional  sub- 
mission to  the  bias  of  their  nature  lies  the  tragic  element. 
This  moving  on  through  life  as  in  a  dream  is  the  ever- 


SCHILLER'S  CRITICISM  OF  "EGMOISTT."      371 

recurring  theme  in  all  the  poems  of  Goethe's  earlier  years. 
His  heroes  are  at  the  same  time  free  and  not  free,  both  in 
the  highest  measure  and  finest  manifestation.  This  mix- 
ture of  freedom  and  servitude  is  the  old  eternal  problem 
to  which  the  thoughts  of  mankind  have  ever  been  directed  ; 
this  mingling  of  would  and  must,  for  which  man  will  never 
find  an  exhaustive  formula. 

Goethe  felt  himself  to  be  the  most  excellent  represent- 
ative of  this  antagonism,  and  he  was  always  personifying 
himself  in  this  aspect,  with  the  hope  of  finding  a  solution. 
In  Gotz  we  see  the  highest  patriotism,  demanding  his  sub- 
mission to  the  laws  of  the  country,  united  with  an  indi- 
vidual self-reliance  which  scoffs  at  all  laws ;  in  Tasso  an 
almost  sacred  regard  for  the  wishes  of  the  Duke,  who  in 
the  sixteenth  century  was  looked  upon  as  a  kind  of  demi- 
god, combined  with  the  most  heedless  neglect  of  the  duties 
imposed  by  his  position  whenever  distrust  arises  in  him 
or  caprice  turns  him  aside  from  them  ;  in  Egmont  the 
grand  self-reliance  of  a  free  Netherland  nobleman,  who 
is  the  representative  of  his  people,  together  with  the  im- 
possibility of  sacrificing  his  individual  untrammelled  life  or 
his  child-like  enjoyment  of  existence  to  political  consid- 
erations. Egmont's  tragic  death  must  be  the  conclusion. 

But  so  far  as  this  inward  conflict  was  concerned  "  Gotz" 
had  been  no  better  understood  by  the  public.  People  had 
recognized  enthusiastically  in  this  work  a  genuine  picture 
of  German  nature,  —  the  sincerity,  the  confiding  honesty, 
the  imperturbable  good-tempered  robustness  of  Gotz,  and 
in  contrast  to  this  the  wretchedness  of  court  life  visible 
in  all  its  worst  results  in  Weislingen ;  added  to  this  the 
life-like,  spirited  sketches  of  the  women  about  Gotz  and 
their  simple  goodness  as  contrasted  with  Adelheid.  So 
far  as  these  same  elements  are  found  in  "  Egmont  "  they 
certainly  were  appreciated  if  only  as  reminders  of  "  Gotz," 


372  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

and  the  "Folk"  scenes  were  declared  to  be  most 
successful  genre  pictures  ;  but  here  also  ruled  the  distinc- 
tion between  the  approbation  of  the  few  and  the  enthu- 
siastic applause  of  the  many.  The  unknown  author  of 
"  Gotz"  had  been  greeted  with  acclamation  as  a  savior  in 
time  of  great  literary  dearth ;  while  the  known  and  re- 
nowned author  of  "Egmont"  was  given  to  understand 
that  on  certain  conditions  his  work  would  be  allowed  to 
pass.  For  the  first  time  this  was  said  openly  in  Goethe's 
face,  and  without  any  varnish  ;  and  moreover  in  Weimar 
and  by  Schiller,  and  by  way  of  welcome  !  Schiller's  milder 
tone  at  the  long-deferred  meeting  with  Goethe  possibly 
arose  from  the  kind  of  melancholy  satisfaction  he  felt  at 
having  already  finished  his  harsh  and  independent  criti- 
cism of  "  Egmont."  It  contained  his  programme.  It  was 
to  suggest  a  great  deal  to  Goethe.  The  leading  idea  in 
the  essay  was  that  Goethe  had  become  historical  in  Ger- 
many ;  this  further  was  ascertained,  that  younger  writ- 
ers were  in  existence  who  considered  themselves  the  men 
of  the  future,  and  that  they  now  —  as  Goethe  had  formerly 
done  in  the  "  Frankfort  Anzeigen  "  —  must  take  the  lib- 
erty frankly  to  call  to  account  the  older  generation  and 
give  them  a  piece  of  their  mind.  It  is  true,  Goethe  was 
certainly  the  most  brilliant  representative  of  this  older 
generation,  as  Schiller  was  the  authorized  mouth-piece 
of  the  younger,  and  as  such  they  hoped  to  have  with 
Goethe  the  intercourse  of  like  with  like.  If  Goethe  were 
a  power,  they  on  their  side  were  not  altogether  powerless ; 
if  he  avoided  them,  they  would  not  seek  him,  —  all  were  of 
equal  importance ;  and  if  anybody  was  inclined  to  think 
there  was  any  difference  in  rank,  they  did  not  share  in 
this  opinion. 

It  is  not  difficult  to  read  these  hints  between  the  lines 
in    Schiller's  criticism   of  "  Egmont."     Schiller  proves 


HOW    GOETHE    FELT    TOWARDS    SCHILLER.     373 

to  Goethe  with  the  professional  knowledge  of  a  trained 
author  that  he  has  failed  in  his  treatment  of  Egmont. 
He  does  not  spare  him  an  historical  lecture  in  relation  to 
it.  The  actual  Egmont  had  been  a  high-born,  impecunious 
gentleman,  the  father  of  a  family,  who  never  confronted 
King  Philip  in  any  such  way  as  Goethe  describes  him  to 
have  done.  The  whole  weight  of  the  hackneyed  argu- 
ment, as  to  how  far  it  is  necessary  that  historical  heroes 
should  correspond  to  the  originals  whose  names  they  take, 
is  brought  to  bear  upon  the  piece,  and  everything  con- 
cerning politics  is  expunged  as  being  an  utter  failure. 
On  the  other  hand  (and  this  too  was  in  the  spirit  of  the 
times),  high  praise  is  bestowed  on  the  popular  element 
in  it,  and  Goethe  at  last  coolly  dismissed.  To  be  sure, 
Schiller  awards  him  magna  cum  laude  as  the  homage 
deserved,  but  with  the  hint  that  summa  cum  laude  must 
this  time  be  decidedly  withheld. 

But  now  that  we  may  see  Schiller  exactly  as  he  was, 
we  must  add  that  when  this  criticism  was  published 
(which  was  shortly  after  his  meeting  with  Goethe),  in  the 
September  of  1788,  some  one  told  him  that  Goethe  had 
spoken  in  praise  of  it,  and  Schiller  believed  this !  All 
the  innocence  and  simplicity  of  the  man  is  here  revealed  ! 
He  truly  thought  "  Egmont "  a  weak  production,  and  gave 
Goethe  the  credit  of  being  able  to  see  it  in  this  light. 

We  have  only  one  single  allusion  of  Goethe  to  Schil- 
ler's article.  Early  in  October  he  writes  to  the  Duke 
that  there  is  a  criticism  in  the  literary  paper  on  his  "  Eg- 
mont," which  analyzes  well  the  political  part  of  the  work  ; 
but  with  regard  to  the  poetic  the  critic  might  have  left  it 
to  others  to  say  something. 

And  here,  too,  the  style  betrays  clearly  enough  what 
Goethe  felt.  If  we  supply  what  can  be  read  between  the 
lines,  the  letter  to  the  Duke  runs  thus  :  "  This  political 


374  LIFE    AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

writer  made  by  your  Highness  a  Weimar  Councillor,  and 
living  now  only  three  doors  from  me,  whose  name  I  need 
not  mention,  has  proved  his  gratitude  to  your  Highness 
and  to  me  at  the  same  time,  by  passing  sentence  on 
my  '  Egmont.'  So  far  as  concerns  the  political  wisdom 
now  prevailing  in  Germany,  he  may  be  right ;  but  as  re- 
gards poetry,  he  does  not  understand  anything  at  all 
about  it." 

No  fictitious  letter  is  needed,  however,  to  prove  that 
this  was  Goethe's  real  opinion  of  Schiller  at  this  time : 
he  gives  expression  to  it  in  other  places  in  words  not  to 
be  mistaken. 

At  the  time  of  Schiller's  loss,  some  seventeen  years 
later,  —  when  feeling  in  his  heart  an  indescribable  void  he 
repeats  the  circumstances  of  his  connection  with  the  dear 
friend  from  the  beginning, — Goethe  recounts  how  changed 
he  had  found  everything  in  Germany  on  his  return  from 
Italy  ;  how  Schiller  next  to  Heinse,  whose  "  Arding- 
hello  "  was  at  that  time  devoured,  stood  as  the  most 
distinguished  representative  of  a  tendency  which  he 
condemned ;  how  the  enthusiasm  which  "  The  Robbers  " 
excited  shocked  him  ;  and  how  his  firm  intention  had  been 
either  not  to  meet  this  man  at  all,  or,  if  a  meeting  proved 
unavoidable,  to  limit  the  acquaintance  as  much  as  possible. 
Goethe  was  a  hero  in  holding  aloof  from  people,  and  in 
maintaining  his  reserve. 

Now  we  see  what  was  in  store  for  Schiller  on  his  return 
from  the  country  late  in  the  autumn.  I  have  just  men- 
tioned into  what  an  error  he  had  been  led  about  the  re- 
ception of  his  criticism  of  "  Egmont."  He  came  back 
therefore  with  the  definite  expectation  that  his  relation  to 
Goethe  must  now  assume  a  pronounced  character.  The 
old  self-confidence  was  still  strong  in  him.  Soon,  how- 
ever, it  dawns  upon  him  how  the  matter  really  stands. 


SCHILLER'S  CALL  TO  JENA.  375 

We  read  in  his  first  letter  to  Korner :  "  Goethe  is  away 
on  a  journey  of  some  days.  It  is  now  quite  settled  that 
he  is  to  remain  here,  but  in  a  private  capacity.  His 
chair  still  stands  in  the  council  indeed,  but  he  himself 
has  as  good  as  withdrawn."  For  a  fortnight  Schiller 
writes  nothing  special  to  Korner,  and  in  the  letter  of  the 
first  of  December  Goethe  is  not  even  mentioned.  Novem- 
ber 27,  Schiller  had  written  to  Caroline  von  Beulwitz :  "  I 
have  not  yet  spoken  with  Goethe,  but  one  of  these  days 
I  shall."  Would  Schiller  seek  him,  or  did  he  hope  to 
meet  him  somewhere  ?  Enough,  neither  of  the  two  hap- 
pened, and  we  nowhere  learn  why  not. 

In  the  mean  time  Goethe  had  long  returned,  and  be- 
gins on  his  side  and  in  his  way  to  interest  himself  about 
Schiller.  He  should  be  cared  for  who  was  living  in 
Weimar  without  a  salary  :  the  discussion  of  Schiller's 
call  to  Jena  as  professor  came  now  upon  the  carpet. 

Eichhorn  had  been  called  from  there  to  Gottingen  and 
had  accepted,  and  Goethe  recommended  Schiller  to  fill 
his  place.  We  have  Goethe's  promemoria,  dated  Decem- 
ber 3,  1788,  concerning  Schiller's  appointment.  Goethe 
pursues  this  matter  so  very  much  as  an  outside  interest 
that  he  wastes  no  words  over  it  in  his  letter,  written  in 
the  midst  of  cold  and  deep  snow,  to  Herder,  who  was  at 
that  time  in  Rome.  Schiller,  although  he  had  applied 
for  the  place  himself,  when  he  found  things  taking  the 
desired  course,  had  a  feeling  creep  into  his  mind  that  he 
was  being  overreached,  —  or,  in  other  words,  that  Goethe 
had  hit  upon  an  honorable  way  of  removing  him  from 
Weimar. 

However,  Schiller  had  desired  it,  and  nothing  remained 
for  him  but  to  express  his  obligation  to  the  "  Herr  Ge- 
heimrath"  for  the  support  granted  ;  and  he  calls  upon 
Goethe  to  present  his  thanks  in  due  form.  About  this 


376  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

visit  we  hear  nothing  in  the  letters,  but  it  seems  at  last  to 
have  opened  his  eyes. 

Schiller  is  formally  announced  at  Goethe's  house ;  but 
he  hopes,  nevertheless,  to  be  received  by  the  poet  as  a 
poet.  The  coadjutor  of  Mentz,  Baron  von  Dalberg,  —  who, 
still  governor,  resided  in  Erfurt,  an  intimate  friend  of 
Schiller  as  well  as  of  Goethe,  not  a  power  as  a  politician, 
but  a  patron  of  art  and  science,  and  one  of  the  infinitely 
good -hearted  men,  —  had  taken  steps  with  Goethe  to  open 
a  successful  approach  for  Schiller.  Schiller  writes  to 
Caroline  von  Beulwitz  with  some  certainty  that  in  this  visit 
to  Goethe,  "who  indeed  was  rarely  to  be  found  alone,"  he 
hopes  "  to  find  some  refreshment  for  mind  and  heart,  and 
not  merely  to.  have  a  chance  to  look  at  Goethe."  This 
proclaims  beforehand  the  intention  to  make  an  assault 
on  Goethe's  heart.  But  in  vain.  Schiller  finds  only  the 
Prime  Minister,  his  official  superior,  who  concentrates 
himself  on  the  case  in  question,  and  admits  nothing  beyond 
the  Jena  professorship.  Schiller  hesitates  about  accept- 
ing it,  and  enlarges  on  his  great  deficiencies.  Goethe 
encourages  him  with  docendo  discitur,  and  says,  in  the 
most  benevolent  way,  that  the  position  will  contribute 
much  to  Schiller's  happiness.  The  15th  of  December  he 
sends  him  the  official  papers,  wherein  Schiller  is  directed 
to  prepare  himself  for  the  professor's  chair.  It  would 
seem  as  if  Schiller  once  again  called  on  Goethe, "  who 
had  indeed  been  very  kind ;  "  but  certainly  this  was  the 
last  visit.  Even  when  "  Don  Carlos  "  had  anew  turned 
the  thoughts  of  all  Germany  to  Schiller,  Goethe  cared  as 
little  to  know  anything  of  the  piece  as  of  his  former  pro- 
ductions, and  Schiller  saw  nothing  further  was  to  be  ex- 
pected from  Goethe. 

Truly  pitiful  is  it  now  to  observe  that  Schiller,  as  time 
went  on,  —  for  he  did  not  go  immediately  from  Weimar  to 


MORITZ    THE    GO-BETWEEN.  377 

Jena, — could  not  bear  this  ill-treatment ;  pitiful,  when  we 
think  how  in  later  times  Goethe  would  have  given  his  life 
for  one  more  day  with  Schiller.  Through  a  peculiar 
combination  of  circumstances  at  this  time  Schiller  saw 
himself  absolutely  cut  off  from  further  intercourse  with 
Goethe. 

One  of  those  who  belonged  to  the  circle  of  Goethe's  most 
intimate  friends  in  Rome  was  Moritz.  Moritz  wrote  his 
own  life  in  the  form  of  a  romance,  "Anton  Reiser, " 
which  is  still  worth  reading.  He  had  succeeded  in  rais- 
ing himself  out  of  the  most  wretched  circumstances.  He 
will  ever  deserve  praise  for  having  written  excellent  Ger- 
man prose,  and  for  his  theory  of  German  versification, 
which,  as  Goethe  declares,  rendered  him  the  greatest  ser- 
vice in  the  remodelling  "  Iphigenia."  Moritz  brought  the 
cadence  of  the  verse  into  harmony  with  the  meaning  of 
the  words,  and  moulded  into  a  theory  what  Klopstock  had 
first  practically  introduced.  He  found  for  a  language  which 
has  no  quantities  a  theory  of  accentuation  which  estab- 
lished "intellectual"  long  and  short  quantities,  and  thus 
rendered  possible  an  imitation  of  the  antique  metres  in 
German,  in  the  classic  sense,  and  according  to  fixed  prin- 
ciples. Moritz's  letters  from  Italy,  written  in  the  Goethe- 
an  epoch,  form  an  interesting  supplement  to  the  "  Italian 
Journey,"  before  whose  publication  they  were  issued. 
Moritz,  on  his  return  from  Italy,  came  to  Weimar  and 
stayed  with  Goethe  in  the  December  of  1788. 

With  him  Schiller  now  became  acquainted.  "  Moritz 
is  powerfully  impressed  with  Goethe's  personality,"  he 
writes.  "  His  nature  has  much  depth  ;  his  mind  labors  : 
but  he  works  out  his  ideas  with  the  utmost  possible  clear- 
ness." Goethe  himself,  however,  has  told  us  that  it  was 
Moritz  who  confirmed  him  passionately  in  opinions 
which  excited  him  against  Schiller.  It  appears  that  Mo- 


378  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

ritz  drew  everything  out  of  Schiller,  and  reported  all  to 
Goethe  in  the  most  unfavorable  light.  At  any  rate,  Mo- 
ritz  and  Schiller  met  often  at  that  time,  and  Goethe's 
character  was  the  theme  ever  freshly  and  hotly  discussed 
between  them.  There  was  nothing  illegitimate  in  it ; 
either  in  that  Moritz  himself  entered  into  the  discussions, 
or  that  he  repeated  them  to  Goethe.  Indeed,  so  long  as 
Moritz  remained  in  Weimar  —  from  December,  1788,  to 
1789  —  this  intercourse  formed  a  kind  of  compensation  to 
Schiller  for  actual  acquaintance  with  Goethe ;  since  he 
could,  at  least,  talk  freely  about  him  to  one  who  knew 
him  intimately,  —  for  the  weight  of  the  mere  presence 
of  Goethe  brought  him  constantly  before  the  minds  of 
men  as  an  object  of  contemplation.  But  now  Moritz 
goes  away,  and  even  this  substitute  for  an  intercourse 
with  Goethe  is  lost  to  Schiller.  Nothing  remains  to 
him  but  the  correspondence  with  Kbrner,  in  which  he 
begins  to  give  vent  to  his  injured  feelings  in  the  bitterest 
tone. 

The  first  of  February,  1789,  he  writes  to  Korner :  — 

"To-day  Moi-itz  went  away  again.  He  is  a  profound 
thinker,  who  goes  into  the  depths  of  things  before  bringing 
them  to  the  surface.  The  idolatry  with  which  he  follows 
Goethe,  which  leads  him  so  far  as  to  canonize  even  his  medi- 
ocre productions,  and  extol  them  at  the  expense  of  all  other 
intellectual  work,  has  prevented  my  closer  intimacy  with 
him.  Otherwise  he  is  a  very  noble  man,  with  a  drollery  that 
makes  his  conversation  entertaining. 

"  To  be  often  with  Goethe  would  make  me  unhappy :  he 
never  for  a  moment  overflows  even  to  his  nearest  friends, 
and  is  never  to  be  caught  unawares.  I  truly  believe  he  is  an 
egoist  to  an  unusual  degree.  He  possesses  the  talent  to 
attract  men,  and,  through  little  as  well  as  great  attentions, 
to  make  them  indebted  to  him.  Still  he  understands  at  the 
same  time  how  to  retain  his  own  independence.  He  makes 


HIS    MANNER   REPELS    SCHILLER.  379 

his  presence  beneficently  felt,  but  only  like  a  god,  —  without 
giving  himself.  This  conduct  seems  to  me  consistent  and 
systematic,  and  calculated  to  insure  the  highest  enjoyment 
of  self-love.  But  of  such  a  character  men  should  not  make 
an  idol.  To  me  he  is  hateful  in  this  regard,  although  I  love 
his  genius  with  my  whole  heart,  and  have  an  exalted  idea  of 
him.  I  consider  him  a  prude.  .  .  . 

"  He  has  aroused  in  me  a  perfectly  curious  mixture  of 
hatred  and  love,  —  a  feeling  not  unlike  that  which  Brutus 
and  Cassius  must  have  had  for  Caesar.  I  could  murder  his 
spirit,  and  love  him  again  with  my  whole  heart.  It  is  chiefly 
for  Goethe's  sake  that  I  wish  to  make  my  poem  as  perfect  as 
possible  ;  for  I  attach  the  greatest  weight  to  his  opinion. 
The  'Gods  of  Greece'  he  judged  very  favorably,  only  he 
found  it  too  long,  in  which  he  may  not  be  far  from  right. 
His  mind  is  ripe,  and  his  opinion,  if  he  has  any  bias,  rather 
against  than  in  favor  of  me.  As  it  is  of  special  importance 
to  me  to  hear  the  truth  of  myself,  he  is  among  all  the  men 
whom  I  know  the  one  who  can  do  me  this  favor.  I  will 
surround  him  with  eavesdroppers ;  for  I  myself  shall  never 
ask  him  any  personal  questions." 

We  see  Goethe  had  driven  Schiller  beside  himself. 
There  could  have  been  no  more  severe  torture  devised 
for  a  man  with  Schiller's  self-esteem  than  to  live  in 
such  propinquity  to  Goethe  ;  to  hear  of  him  constantly  ; 
to  acknowledge  him  secretly  as  the  greatest  poet,  the 
critic  from  whom  there  was  no  appeal,  —  and  to  be  re- 
pulsed by  him  like  a  leper !  The  most  stinging  thing  in 
the  letter  to  Korner  has  plainly  been  left  out.  After  the 
sentence,  "  I  consider  him  a  prude,"  we  find  even  in 
Goecleke's  last  edition  the  mark  of  omission  still  placed ; 
we  suspect  that  what  he  said  will  not  even  to-day  bear 
repetition. 

Over  the  possible  contents  of  this  dropped-out  phrase 
suspicion,  nevertheless,  need  not  range  far :  a  letter  in 


380  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

the  beginning  of  March  expresses  the  bitterness  which 
filled  Schiller's  heart :  — 

"  I  must  laugh  when  I  reflect  what  I  have  written  you  of 
and  about  Goethe.  I  dare  say  you  have  probed  my  weak- 
ness, and  already  laughed  at  me  in  secret.  But  never  mind : 
I  am  Avilling  you  should  know  me  as  I  am.  This  man, 
this  Goethe,  is  an  impediment  in  my  way ;  and  he  too  often 
reminds  me  how  cruelly  I  have  been  treated  by  Fate,  how 
easily  Destiny  has  led  on  his  genius,  and  how  I  have  had  to 
struggle  even  to  this  minute.  I  cannot  repair  all  I  have 
lost,  —  after  thirty  one  does  not  change;  and,  indeed,  I 
could  not  attempt  any  radical  transformations  at  the  pres- 
ent time,  since  I  must  sacrifice  four  more  years  at  least  to 
relentless  fate.  But  I  am  of  good  courage,  and  believe  in 
a  happy  revolution  in  the  future." 

This,  then,  was  the  summary:  an  almost  blighted 
youth ;  and  now  when  the  terminus  had  been  reached 
where  recompense  for  all  these  losses  was  to  have  been 
expected,  —  now,  too,  only  wretched  necessary  work,  just 
to  win  daily  bread  and  cancel  old  debts !  And  close  to 
him  the  great  genius  whose  animating  intercourse  would 
have  been  able  to  fill  this  monstrous  void  in  his  life,  but 
who  coldly  and  indifferently  passed  him  by  !  The  subject 
of  Goethe  should  henceforth  be  a  closed  one  to  Schiller. 

Easter,  1789,  Schiller  went  to  Jena. 

The  Jena  University  work  on  the  one  hand,  and  his 
happy  marriage  with  Lotte  Lengefeld  on  the  other,  now 
absorbed  him  for  a  while.  At  the  end  of  September, 
1789,  —  a  year  after  first  meeting  Goethe  there,  —  he 
writes  to  Kb'rner  from  Rudolstadt  about  Goethe  and 
Herder,  with  whom  Korner  in  the  mean  time,  without 
Schiller,  had  come  into  close  contact.  A  situation  had 
been  offered  Korner  in  Weimar,  and  it  was  now  Schil- 
ler's turn  to  prophesy  the  nature  of  the  meeting  which 


ESTRANGEMENT    OF    THE    TWO    POETS.          381 

awaited  him  there  with  these  two  great  men.  Schiller 
writes :  — 

"  As  for  you,  I  hope  you  will  soon  be  able  to  value  your 
acquaintance  with  Goethe  and  Herder  for  what  it  is  really 
worth ;  but,  with  all  your  caution,  you  will  not  escape  the 
common  fate  which  meets  every  one  who  becomes  attached 
to  these  two  men." 

Which  means  that  Korner  will  at  first  be  captivated,  and 
then  one  day,  in  the  most  cruel  manner,  find  himself  out 
in  the  cold,  abandoned  to  his  own  resources. 

These  and  other  assertions,  too  often  repeated  to  make 
it  necessary  for  me  to  quote  more  here,  show  how  wide 
the  breach  was  between  the  two  poets. 

Schiller's  letters  are  of  most  striking  importance,  as 
showing  how  difficult  —  indeed,  almost  impossible  —  it  is 
to  judge  great  men  rightly  through  their  relations  to  one 
another.  Let  us  ponder  it.  Five  years  this  estrange- 
ment continued,  during  which  time  neither  of  the  two 
was  able  to-  see  the  other  in  the  right  light.  Suppose 
now  that  Schiller  or  Goethe,  one  of  the  two,  had  died 
during  these  five  years,  —  would  not  these  merciless 
judgments  of  Schiller,  repeatedly  and  passionately  ut- 
tered, have  clung  to  Goethe  like  a  stigma  forever  ?  Would 
they  not  have  brought  Goethe's  whole  moral  nature  in 
question,  and  shrouded  him  as  with  a  hoar-frost  which  no 
breath  would  have  been  warm  enough  to  dispel  ?  Would 
any  one  have  had  the  courage  to  assert,  in  face  of  these 
numerous  letters  of  Schiller,  that  he  was  blinded,  un- 
just, and  prejudiced?  Would  any  admirer  of  Goethe 
have  stood  any  chance  at  all  of  being  listened  to,  if  he  had 
suggested  that  had  Schiller  or  Goethe  lived  they  would 
have  discovered  how  very  much  they  were  both  deceived  ? 
Who  would  have  been  allowed  to  establish  such  an  hypoth- 


LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

esis  ?     And  yet  we  know  to-day  that  each  was  persuaded 
of  this  at  last. 

It  must  be  regarded  as  one  of  the  happiest  dispensa- 
tions of  Providence  that,  in  spite  of  all  that  lay  between 
them,  Schiller  and  Goethe  nevertheless  were  finally 
brought  together. 


FINAL    BREAK   WITH   FEAU    VON   STEIN.       383 


LECTURE  XX. 

GOETHE'S  SECLUSION.  —  THE  UNION  WITH  SCHILLER.— 
SCHILLER'S  WIFE. 

"ID  Y  the  admittance  of  the  Vulpius  family  into  his 
T-*  house,  Goethe  had  shut  himself  off  from  the  Wei- 
mar world.  It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  recount  in  what 
way  the  rupture  with  Frau  von  Stein  followed.  As  the 
misunderstanding  between  them  grew  more  and  more 
trying,  and  the  secret  cause  of  it  by  degrees  came  to  light, 
Goethe  wrote  the  notorious  farewell  letter  upon  whose 
reception  the  old  friend  must  have  felt  that  she  was  dis- 
missed. However  much  might  be  said  which  would  mit- 
igate certain  details  in  this  letter,  the  letter  itself  cannot 
be  denied,  nor  the  want  of  consideration  manifested  in  it. 
A  hard  letter  !  A  formidable  historical  memento  for  all 
women  in  like  relations !  Let  us  picture  to  ourselves 
Charlotte  von  Stein's  situation. 

For  more  than  ten  years  made  by  Goethe  the  arbi- 
tress  of  his  fate  and  of  his  intellectual  achievements  ;  with 
unvarying  fidelity  surrounded  by  no  end  of  flattering 
proofs  of  his  care,  and  above  all  supplied  with  whatever 
new  things  appeared  in  the  literary  horizon  ;  all  her  best 
faculties  developed  by  him ;  raised  to  be  the  envied  par- 
ticipator in  his  mental  life,  —  of  all  this  she  sees  her- 
self, wholly  unprepared  and  without  any  apparent  fault 
of  her  own,  suddenly  deprived,  and  cast  down  from  her 


384  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

exalted  position  into  a  gloomy  void  which  she  could  never 
fill  by  any  effort  of  her  own.  Goethe  had  insensibly 
persuaded  her  that  his  attachment  to  her  would  never 
cease,  at  least  as  a  matter  of  sentiment ;  and  now,  to 
break  away  from  her  in  such  a  shameful  way  !  — for  she 
not  only  felt  herself  dethroned,  but  was  shocked  at  the 
person  she  saw  in  her  place.  At  the  same  time,  Char- 
lotte von  Stein  must  say  to  herself  that  a  Nemesis  was 
hidden  in  it,  —  or  she  ought  to  have  confessed  this.  She 
should  not  have  accepted  his  fruitless'  homage,  nor  per- 
mitted him  to  be  so  constantly  near  her  through  the 
years  when  he,  otherwise,  might  have  founded  his  own 
household.  Possibly  she  was  the  chief  cause  why  Goe- 
the, satiated  with  the  delicacies  on  the  table  of  life 
which  leave  the  heart  hungry,  had  now  taken  a  great  loaf 
of  wholesome  brown  bread  under  his  arm,  from  which  he 
could  take  a  bite  ad  libitum  and  continue  to  cut  at  many 
a  meal-time.  However  this  may  be,  the  decision  had 
been  made.  Goethe's  door  was  bolted,  and  remained 
so.  He  gives  parties,  where  ladies  are  invited  ;  but  they 
are  not  introduced  into  his  family  circle,  and  from  this 
time  he  is  to  the  world  bachelor  ad  infinitum.  The 
man  who  had  really  the  most  aristocratic  house  in  the 
city  was  no  longer  a  desirable  match  at  the  disposition 
of  the  Weimar  world.  Society  resents  such  things. 

Moreover,  Goethe  had,  by  repelling  Schiller,  put  himself 
out  of  connection  with  the  rising  literary  interests.  At 
that  period  a  keener  and  more  active  spirit  was  dom- 
inant in  literature  ;  formerly  there  had  only  been  cliques, 
now  we  see  the  beginning  of  factions.  Goethe  fancied 
that  he  had  quietly  passed  from  an  active  to  a  contempla- 
tive life,  but  his  publishers  soon  perceived  that  the  com- 
plete edition  of  his  works  was  not  to  be  a  success.  The 
collection  of  his  poems,  which  Goethe  now  offered  Gcr- 


SCHOLARLY    SECLUSION   IN   WEIMAR.          385 

many  for  the  first  time,  met,  as  Diintzer  said,  a  very 
cold  reception.  The  reviews  did  not  go  beyond  polite 
recognition,  and  the  public  just  accepted  them  without 
manifesting  the  slightest  enthusiasm.  This  did  not  vex 
Goethe :  he  was  fully  occupied.  He  worked  on  his  po- 
ems according  to  his  own  idea,  and  with  the  purpose  to 
finish  what  he  had  begun.  With  "  Tasso,"  and  what 
beside  interested  him,  he  scarcely  gave  a  thought  to  the 
great  public.  Even  when  he  had  written  from  Italy  to 
the  Duke  about  "  Egmont,"  he  had  said :  "  I  would  now 
write  only  what  men  who  lead,  or  have  led,  great  and 
exciting  lives  may  —  yes,  must  —  read."  We  see  his 
circle  of  readers  so  very  much  limited  by  his  own  ideal, 
that  it  no  longer  deserves  the  name  of  "  the  public." 

Finally,  Goethe  had  ostensibly  resigned  his  official  du- 
ties :  he  appeared  no  longer  in  the  Council  Chamber. 

Goethe  established  himself  in  Weimar  anew  in  a  pri- 
vate capacity.  The  Ten  Years  were  added  to  the  mythic 
Frankfort  period,  and  a  new  account  opened.  Goethe's 
interest  in  public  affairs  is  now  directed  to  the  foster- 
ing of  science.  There  grew  out  of  his  strivings,  in 
the  dilettante  fashion  of  Lavater,  an  earnest  study  of 
anatomy  and  osteology.  Botany  and  geology  had  long 
been  his  favorite  pursuits,  and  he  now  follows  them  up 
with  the  thoroughness  and  accuracy  of  a  patient  scholar. 
The  history  of  Art,  since  his  visit  to  Italy,  was  like  a  rich 
garden  adjacent  to  his  own  house,  enticing  him  to  constant 
and  indispensable  labor.  Goethe  was  convinced  that  the 
works  of  representative  art  are  more  trustworthy  histor- 
ical material  than  is  offered  by  historical  writers,  who, 
with  the  best  intention,  are  apt  to  produce  only  myths  of 
their  own  creating.  Likewise,  his  relation  to  philology 
and  the  history  of  literature  took  a  wholly  new  form 
after  he  had  discerned  and  acknowledged  the  essential 

25 


386  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

importance  of  Greek  and  Roman  culture,  which  he  recog- 
nized as  the  basis  of  all  education,  and  at  once  made  him- 
self the  champion  of  this  truth.  I  have  before  said  that 
it  seemed  as  if  Goethe  founded  an  invisible  University  in 
Weimar,  where  he  filled  every  department  himself,  —  rec- 
tor, professor  in  all  the  Faculties,  private  tutor,  pupil, 
and  beadle  ;  everything  revolves  about  him,  and  he  cares 
for  everything  separately. 

Rarely  has  such  comprehensive  scientific  work  been 
undertaken,  in  such  an  earnest  way,  as  was  now  begun 
by  him.  Only  to  a  power  like  Goethe's  was  it  possible  to 
labor  so  ardently  in  wholly  diverse  directions,  and  to 
prosecute  with  such  concentration  enterprises'  involving 
such  entirely  different  results.  His  freshly  gained  knowl- 
edge began  to  be  productive  in  leading  him  either  to  take 
an  active  part  in  scientific  investigations,  or  to  serve  the 
public  whenever  explanatory  criticism  was  demanded. 
This  scientific  labor  made  his  connection  with  Jena  more 
and  more  intimate.  I  close  this  survey  by  giving,  as  the 
sum  of  what  he  achieved  during  the  first  few  years  after 
his  return  from  Italy,  that  Goethe  succeeds  in  establish- 
ing himself  as  the  integral  member  of  the  Weimar  gov- 
ernment, in  a  position  at  once  in  consonance  with  the 
essential  requirements  of  the  Duke,  the  interests  of  the 
country,  and  his  personal  wishes.  He  raises  himself  to 
the  rank  of  Chancellor  of  State  for  the  sake  of  its  oppor- 
tunity of  conferring  appointments,  and  opens  to  himself 
a  vast  sphere  for  independent  personal  activity,  in  which 
he  could  turn  his  energy  now  here,  now  there,  as  suited 
his  inclination.  And  all  these  relations  were  matured  as 
naturally  and  imperceptibly  as  apples  ripen  on  the  tree 
without  artificial  aid.  Goethe  feels  that  he  is  a  man  of 
forty,  equips  himself  as  suitably  as  possible  for  the  com- 
ing years,  and  moves  on  with  the  firm  step  of  a  man  who 


FKIENDSHIPS    BECOME    IMPERSONAL.  387 

is  conscious  that  he  is  fulfilling  his  destiny.  The  city  of 
Weimar  is  no  longer,  as  in  the  times  of  Frau  von  Stein, 
the  only  spot  on  earth  to  him,  but  a  temporary  abiding- 
place  only,  to  which  he  returns  from  longer  or  shorter 
absences  with  the  feeling  that  his  movements  are  of  no 
consequence  to  any  one  outside  of  his  own  family. 
•  In  order  to  make  the  background  of  this  new  life  per- 
fectly understood  I  add  the  following,  —  that  from  the 
time  of  his  leaving  Frankfort  Goethe  had  ever,  more  and 
more,  withdrawn  from  general  society.  He  had  gradually 
placed  himself  on  the  defensive,  and  manifested  but  little 
desire  to  continue  his  intercourse  with  his  old  friends. 
He  picked  out  his  associates  very  carefully,  and  allowed 
a  certain  tone  of  unapproachableness,  not  to  say  oddity, 
to  become  apparent  in  his  manner.  No  doubt  he  many 
times  coolly  put  the  people  out  of  doors  who  tried  to 
clap  him  on  the  shoulder  familiarly  as  in  the  good  old 
days. 

But  this  phase  also  passed  away. 

After  Goethe  had  resigned  the  cordial  intimacies  which 
he  had  enjoyed  during  the  Ten  Years,  he  gave  up  all 
idea  of  friendship,  and  welcomed  to  his  companionship 
only  those  from  whom  he  expected  furtherance  in  his 
aims.  All  mankind  became  transformed  into  an  object 
deserving,  in  the  highest  degree,  of  study.  Where  there 
was  anything  to  be  learned,  there  Goethe  was  found. 
Instead  of  the  passionate  fancies  or  aversions  of  earlier 
days,  a  calm,  scientific  desire  for  every  kind  of  knowledge 
made  the  acquisition  of  it  equally  grateful,  whether  de- 
rived from  the  printed  page  or  through  the  medium  of 
men.  To  this  epoch  of  Goethe's  life  Emerson's  words 
are  applicable:  "  Enemy  of  him  you  may  be,  —  if  so,  you 
shall  teach  him,  aught  which  your  good-will  cannot ;"  and 
therefore  we  see  him  renewing  even  discarded  friendships 


388  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

with  a  certain  cool  graciousness :'  they  belong  to  his  great 
store  in  which  no  bit  which  is  good  for  anything  is  to  be 
allowed  to  become  food  for  moths. 

His  friendships  from  this  time  have  quite  another  char- 
acter ;  and  even  when  there  is  ostensible  familiarity,  it 
must  not  lead  us  to  over-estimate  them. 

In  youth,  personal  intimacy  depends  upon  the  influence 
one  man's  whole  personality  has  over  another's.  What  a 
man  really  is  —  his  character  —  decides  with  whom  he 
shall  associate.  I  need  not  name  single  instances  among 
Goethe's  earlier  attachments  to  prove  this,  for  each  and 
all  confirm  the  truth  of  it.  In  later  years,  on  the  other 
hand,  only  specialties  are  valued  in  men,  of  which  we  take 
advantage  for  a  time  for  a  definite  purpose,  intentionally 
ignoring  the  sum  total  of  the  man  himself.  How  else 
could  we  get  on  with  people  ?  Many  of  Goethe's  new 
intimacies  bear  testimony  to  this. 

With  Moritz:  for  instance,  there  were  certain  clearly 
defined  points  which  in  his  intercourse  with  this  queer 
fellow  Goethe  kept  ever  in  view,  while  the  rest  of  his  dark 
existence  was  ignored.  In  spite  of  this,  we  see  Moritz 
in  the  closest  relations  with  Goethe.  In  Rome  Goethe 
sits  by  his  sick-bed,  and  in  Weimar  takes  him  into  his 
house.  In  the  same  way  he  treats  Meyer,  —  the  so-called 
"  Kunst-Meyer," — who  as  Goethe's  artistic  aid-de-camp 
attaches  himself  to  him,  and  ever  after  lives  near  him  in 
Weimar,  sometimes  even  in  his  house.  But  this  intimacy 
also  was  limited  to  the  province  of  art  history.  Goethe 
in  his  relation  to  this  man  and  many  others  might  be 
compared  to  a  prince  among  his  ministers,  each  of  whom 
is  restricted  to  his  peculiar  department.  Goethe's  asso- 
ciates—  whether  official,  scientific,  or  social  —  from  this 
time  had  each  a  programme  prescribed  which  both  parties 
were  bound  to  carry  out. 


CARL   AUGUST    COMPREHENDS    GOETHE.        389 

This,  indeed,  the  so-much  younger  Schiller  could  not 
know,  who  appealed  to  the  whole  man  in  Goethe.  He 
ought  to  have  come  ten  years  earlier,  for  this  was  one  of 
the  causes  why  Goethe  could  not  be  just  to  Schiller's 
claims.  No  wonder  this  change  in  Goethe's  nature  re- 
mained a  mystery  to  Frau  von  Stein :  formerly  Goethe 
had  given  her  the  key  to  his  pantry,  while  now  he  only 
doled  out  to  her,  as  to  others,  the  crumbs  they  needed. 
Christiane  understood  this,  and  never  coveted  the  entrance 
to  any  apartments  which  Goethe  preferred  to  keep  locked 
against  her.  Even  Herder  could  not  interpret  this  change 
rightly,  and  from  this  time  his  friendship  for  Goethe 
slowly  cooled  again.  Herder's  wife  could  not  bear  Chris- 
tiane ;  she  defended  the  relation  indeed,  but  talked  of  it 
without  reserve. 

The  Duke  alone  fully  understood  Goethe,  because  he 
found  himself  in  precisely  the  same  case ;  for  though  Carl 
August  was  much  younger,  like  all  princes  he  had  begun 
earlier  to  live.  Between  these  two  men  only  we  see  the 
ever-enduring  influence  of  character  upon  character.  As 
genuine  grands  seigneurs  they  walked  side  by  side,  and 
the  distance  which  separated  them  was  exactly  to  their 
tastes.  They  interested  themselves  about  each  other  only 
just  so  far  as  was  consistent  with  keeping  their  affairs 
wholly  distinct  from  each  other  ;  but  they  fully  realized 
how  useful  they  were  one  to  the  other.  From  friends 
Goethe  and  the  Duke  became  allies.  While  all  the  world 
found  fault  with  Goethe's  lengthened  absence  in  Italy,  the 
Duke  would  generously  have  granted  him  even  a  longer 
furlough  ;  and  when  Goethe  returned,  he  helped  him,  in 
the  same  princely  fashion,  to  create  a  new  sphere  of  activ- 
ity. In  the  beginning  of  1790  he  conferred  upon  him  the 
supervision  of  all  the  provincial  institutions  for  art  and 
science.  In  the  spring  of  1790  he  sent  him  as  far  as 


390  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

Venice  to  meet  the  Duchess  mother,  who  was  then  in 
Italy,  and  whom  Goethe  should  have  awaited  there.  This 
was  Goethe's  second  Italian  sojourn,  at  which  time,  in 
recollection  of  Christiane,  the  "  Venetian  Epigrams  "  were 
written.  In  the  summer  of  the  same  year  he  accom- 
panied the  Duke  to  the  Prussian  manoeuvres  in  Silesia, 
where,  besides  obtaining  a  knowledge  of  camp  life,  he 
made  valuable  scientific  and  official  acquaintances,  and 
the  journey  was  extended  as  far  as  Galicia  on  account  of 
its  mines.  About  Goethe  in  Silesia  we  have  a  well-written 
monograph  by  Wentzel.  In  May,  1791,  he  became  di- 
rector of  the  Court  Theatre,  which  had  been  newly  estab- 
lished after  the  Belluomo  troupe  went  to  Gb'ttingen  for 
want  of  the  necessary  support  in  Weimar.  For  this 
theatre  he  furnishes  a  mass  of  dramatic  material,  —  pro- 
logues, epilogues,  interpolations,  and  original  plays.  He 
enters  heart  and  soul  into  these  new  duties ;  decora- 
tions, costumes,  rehearsals,  care  for  the  personal  welfare 
of  the  actors,  —  all  these  matters  are  considered  as  if  they 
were  essentials  in  a  large  household,  and  to  which  he,  the 
master,  attended  with  painful  conscientiousness. 

In  July,  1791,  Goethe,  with  the  Duchess  mother, 
founded,  under  the  name  of  the  "  Friday  Receptions,"  the 
meetings  at  which  cognizance  was  to  be  taken  of  all  the 
latest  ideas  in  science.  In  the  summer  of  1792  he  fol- 
lows the  Duke  to  the  French  campaign.  The  fruit  of  this 
expedition,  the  description  of  the  "  campaign,"  is  written 
in  the  most  graphic  style ;  and  we  hear  of  new  acquaint- 
ances made,  and  of  meetings  with  old  friends.  Mean- 
while the  rebuilding  of  his  house  is  going  on  in  Weimar. 
In  1793  he  was  at  the  siege  of  Mentz.  At  the  end  of  this 
year  the  Duke  leaves  the  Prussian  service,  and  Weimar 
once  more  becomes  the  point  of  their  mutual  labors. 

I  forbear  even  to  indicate  the  things  in  anything  like 


A  PERIOD  OF  "STAGNATION."  391 

completeness.  We  may  say  of  them  what  we  said  of 
Schiller's  experiences  in  early  life,  —  all  might  have  hap- 
pened differently,  or  not  at  all :  their  value  would  have 
been  the  same.  But  these  excitements  came  opportunely 
to  an  energetic  nature,  trying  to  stifle  for  a  time  the 
consciousness  that  it  lacked  a  special  and  ultimate  aim 
for  its  existence.  The  more  common  remedy  for  the 
favored  few,  under  such  circumstances,  is  to  divert  them- 
selves by  travel.  On  the  whole,  the  one  thing  to  remem- 
ber about  this  period  —  from  1780  to  about  1793  —  is 
that  it  was  of  no  special  importance  in  Goethe's  life. 

Goethe  had  in  these  years  what  he  wished  and  needed. 
He  had  initiated  a  new  life,  and  felt  at  home  in  it ;  he  had 
his  daily  tasks,  enjoyed  influence,  consideration,  and  re- 
nown, and  could  quietly  await  the  sequel,  ^ —  if,  indeed,  he 
gave  at  that  time  any  special  thought  to  the  future.  But 
this  existence  lacked  its  evening  glow,  its  supreme  con- 
secration. It  seems  to  resolve  itself  into  minutiae.  He 
admits,  with  a  certain  cynical  air,  that  he  '*  has  become 
older,"  and  "  if  he  would  be  quite  honest,  he  must  confess 
that  with  all  his  outward  successes  stagnation  had  set  in." 
"  Egmont "  and  "  Tasso  "  do  not  attract;  and  even  the 
beginning  of  "Faust"  (finally  printed  in  1790),  which 
when  read  aloud  to  his  friends  had  produced  such  an  ex- 
traordinary effect,  was  allowed  to  pass  almost  unnoticed. 
The  "  Roman  Elegies  "  found  no  public,  and  a  crowd  of 
other  things  which  need  not  be  mentioned  here  were 
almost  entirely  overlooked ;  while  the  first  part  of  the 
"  Theory  of  Colors  "  excited  the  disapprobation  of  the 
professionals  of  that  department  by  its  mere  title, — 
"  Contribution  to  Optics."  All  these  were  scattered 
effusions  of  a  writer  whose  final  aims  no  one  was'able  to 
discover,  and  about  whose  future  career  there  was  no 
further  speculation.  If  Goethe,  at  the  cannonade  of 


392  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

Valmy,  had  been  struck  by  a  ball,  or  in  any  other  way 
taken  from  the  world,  his  best  friends  would  certainly 
have  lamented  his  loss ;  but,  while  they  must  have  ac- 
knowledged that  he  fully  merited  his  poetical  renown, 
they  would  have  felt,  as  in  the  case  of  Lord  Byron,  that 
nothing  greater  than  he  had  already  written  was  to  have 
been  expected  of  him. 

But  such  was  not  the  will  of  Providence.  The  time 
had  at  last  come  when  Goethe  and  Schiller  were  to  look 
upon  each  other  in  a  wholly  new  light.  In  speaking  of 
Jacobi,  I  said  that  he  and  Goethe  mingled  like  two  seas. 
Goethe  and  Schiller  were  to  unite  like  two  rivers,  to  make 
one  giant  stream  of  mighty  power.  They  now  came  to- 
gether as  naturally  as  they  had  before  remained  apart. 

Schiller  was  settled  in  Jena.  He  was  happily  married, 
had  enough  to  .live  on,  devoted  pupils,  and  worked  unin- 
terruptedly. His  poetical  effusions  gave  place  to  histor- 
ical and  aesthetic  work ;  but  respect  for  him  as  a  writer 
grew  visibly,  and  his  ideas  were  always  in  unison  with 
what  at  the  time  chiefly  interested  the  world.  His  wife 
was  one  of  the  most  intimate  friends  of  Frau  von  Stein, 
and  sympathized  with  her  grief,  which  was  kept  alive  by 
a  memory  of  the  past  which  consumed  her  and  a  present 
that  preyed  upon  her.  Goethe  was  regarded  by  this  circle 
as  a  burned-out  volcano,  an  extinguished  star,  the  stately 
councillor  with  the  double  chin,  an  epicurean.  We  find 
his  new  works  hardly  alluded  to  in  Schiller's  letters. 

So  things  stood,  when  Schiller  on  his  wedding  journey, 
in  1793,  made  the  acquaintance  of  a  man  whose  decisive 
influence  on  his  later  career  is  not  to  be  mistaken,  —  the 
bookseller  Cotta.  The  correspondence  on  both  sides, 
which  now  lies  printed  before  us,  shows  clearly  the  secret 
of  Cotta's  success,  —  a  sagacity  almost  amounting  to 
genius,  which  instantly  discerned  the  vitality  in  all  liter- 


A   NEW   MAGAZINE  —  THE    "  HOUKS."          393 

ary  undertakings  ;  an  equal  cleverness,  not  only  in  find- 
ing the  right  people,  but  in  holding  them  fast ;  and,  so  far 
as  the  matter  of  money  was  concerned,  a  generous  pa- 
tron. To-day,  when  conferring  the  title  of  nobility  has 
become  the  common  reward  for  commercial  success,  we 
must  say  that  Gotta,  through  his  grand  business  capacity, 
richly  deserved  his  title  of  Baron. 

With  Gotta  originated  the  idea  of  the  Augsburg  "  Pub- 
lic Gazette."  That  a  cool,  judicious,  business  man  like 
Gotta  should  recognize  Schiller  as  the  man  who  must  be 
placed  at  the  head  of  such  an  enterprise,  with  two  thou- 
sand guilders  at  his  disposal,  proves  that  Schiller's  posi- 
tion had  indeed  become  a  commanding  one.  Schiller 
was  at  this  time,  first  and  foremost,  a  politician.  His 
historical  writings  aimed  at  a  direct  effect  upon  the  pub- 
lic :  he  never  dreamed  of  writing  as  a  learned  man  for 
the  learned.  He  could  not  comply  with  Cotta's  request 
because  of  his  feeble  health,  but  arranged  with  Gotta  for 
the  publication  of  a  magazine,  the  first  number  of  which 
was  to  appear  early  in  1795,  —  the  renowned  "Hours." 
Every  month  a  work  of  sixty-four  pages.  If  any  one 
would  know  what  the  change  had  been  in  Germany  in 
twenty  years,  it  is  only  necessary  to  compare  with  the 
"  Hours  "  Wieland's  "  German  Mercury,"  which  in  its  day 
had  satisfied  the  highest  claims  of  the  reading  public. 

This  magazine  was  started  in  Jena  under  Schiller's 
supervision.  By  offering  the  highest  prices,  the  most 
eminent  minds  in  Germany  were  to  be  induced  to  become 
its  contributors  ;  and  Kant,  Jacobi,  and  Goethe  were  the 
first  to  be  won.  Gotta  would  have  insisted  on  securing 
Goethe  at  any  price,  but  Schiller  took  the  matter  in  hand 
and  with  perfect  success.  Schiller's  letters  to  Gotta  give 
ample  proof  of  the  diplomatic  skill  with  which  he  man- 
aged Goethe.  He  is  most  careful  to  respect  Goethe's 


394  LIFE    ANfl    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

idiosyncrasies.  The  way  in  which  he  at  last  conquers 
him  fills  us  with  genuine  admiration. 

Schiller  must  certainly  have  had  people  who  kept  him 
informed  about  things  ;  for,  after  the  unfortunate  attempt 
we  have  already  recounted  to  draw  near  to  Goethe,  a  man 
in  Schiller's  position  would  never  have  undertaken  this  un- 
less he  had  been  certain  of  the  result.  With  keen  discern- 
ment Schiller  saw  Goethe's  unfavorable  situation  more 
clearly  perhaps  than  Goethe  himself,  and,  with  the  talent 
of  a  general,  planned  his  attack  and  prosecuted  the  siege. 

As  the  first  record,  we  cite  the  letter  of  June  1794. 
Respectfully,  but  in  business  style,  in  the  name  of  a  com- 
pany entertaining  for  him  sentiments  of  the  most  "  un- 
bounded veneration,"  Goethe  is  invited  to  become  one  of 
the  contributors  to  the  "  Hours."  To  be  sure,  they  had 
offered  the  same  "  unbounded  veneration  "  to  Kant ;  and 
we  find  Humbolt  at  this  time  presenting  his  "  unbounded 
veneration"  to  Kb'rner. 

There  had  never  been  an  entire  breach  between  Schiller 
and  Goethe.  In  the  years  1790  and  1791 -there  had  even 
been  a  kind  of  intercourse  between  them.  Goethe  de- 
signs a  frontispiece  for  one  of  Schiller's  literary  under- 
takings, visits  Schiller  in  Jena,  whether  once  or  more  is 
not  quite  clear,  and  discusses  with  him  Kant's  philoso- 
phy (but  how  disagreeable  Schiller's  manner  of  inform- 
ing Korner  of  this  in  a  letter ! )  ;  finally  Goethe  brings 
"  Don  Carlos  "  upon  the  stage,  which  necessitates  a  cer- 
tain co-operation  with  Schiller.  From  this  time  we  find 
scarcely  a  trace  of  any  personal  meeting. 

To  this  company  who  had  offered  Goethe  their  "  un- 
bounded veneration  "  Wilhelm  von  Humbolt,  Fichte,  and 
others  of  like  distinction  belonged.  Goethe  did  not  let  the 
fourteen  official  days  pass,  but  replied,  on  the  24th  of  June, 
in  a  cool,  friendly,  encouraging  tone,  consenting  to  join  in 


HE  BEGINS  TO  REGARD  SCHILLER.     395 

the  undertaking.  He  could  not  well  have  done  other- 
wise; besides,  it  was  a  concession  to  the  company  and 
not  to  Schiller.  If  this  is  to  be  regarded  as  the  first  step 
towards  their  approach,  it  was  certainly  a  very  little  one. 

Goethe's  closer  connection  with  the  University  of  Jena 
in  his  capacity  of  highest  official  authority  brought  man- 
ifold personal  relations  with  it.  He  went  over  there  very 
often.  On  the  now  smooth,  excellent  road  between  Wei- 
mar and  Jena,  one  would  never  suspect  that  in  Goethe's 
time  even  a  short  journey  (Reise)  like  this  was  not  free 
from  danger  .to  the  carriage.  Batsch  had  started  a  Natu- 
ral-History Society  in  Jena,  whose  periodical  meetings 
Goethe  attended.  Here  he  met  Schiller.  By  chance  they 
left  the  hall  together :  a  conversation  arose  which  en- 
ticed Goethe  as  far  as  Schiller's  house  and  up  the  stairs. 
When  he  left,  he  said  he  hoped  soon  again  to  have  a  con- 
versation with  Schiller.  This  time  it  had  been  Goethe 
who  was  the  first  to  set  foot  in  his  illustrious  neighbor's 
house. 

On  the  following  day  he  returned  to  Schiller  a  manu- 
script for  the  "  Hours "  which  had  been  submitted  to 
him  for  criticism,  with  the  added  words :  "  Keep  me  in 
friendly  remembrance,  and  be  assured  that  I  should  often 
enjoy  an  exchange  of  ideas  with  you."  One  must  com- 
pare these  words  with  the  very  measured  phrases  which 
Goethe  was  at  that  time  in  the  habit  of  using  to  his 
correspondents,  in  order  to  appreciate  their  cordial  tone. 
Yes,  even  more  than  this  !  Goethe's  whole  manner  had 
assumed  something  stiff,  unbending,  ceremonious,  which 
struck  people  at  once,  even  from  the  way  he  had  of  hold- 
ing his  head  and  back. 

Now  another  meeting  in  Jena.  They  fell  into  an 
earnest  conversation,  and  again  about  philosophical  mat- 
ters, when  Schiller  was  at  his  best  and  Goethe  was  most 


396  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

uncomfortable.  Goethe  describes,  with  quite  dramatic 
effect,  how  Schiller's  systematic  opposition  had  been  so 
trying  to  him  that  all  became  doubtful  again  between 
them.  Schiller  had  a  very  thin,  narrow-chested  figure, 
and  carried  his  head  somewhat  bent.  He  smoked  and 
took  snuff,  which  was  unendurable  to  Goethe,  and  was 
restless  and  jerky  in  his  movements.  "  In  spite  of  all 
this,"  continues  Goethe,  "  Schiller's  personal  charm  was 
irresistible  and  held  me  fast."  The  practical  wisdom 
and  adaptiveness  which  Schiller  possessed  in  a  far  greater 
degree  than  Goethe  captivated  him.  These  two  great 
natures  had  come  near  to  one  another,  never  again  to  be 
divided.  To  Goethe  it  brought  back  the  inspiration  of 
his  youth.  He  had  once  more  found,  as  in  Jacobi  and 
Lavater,  a  soul  from  which  he  could  not  detach  himself. 

What  Schiller  possessed  over  and  above  these  two 
men  he  so  well  knew  how  to  conceal  that  when,  after  his 
death,  Goethe  took  a  retrospective  view  of  the  growth  of 
their  friendship,  he  was  himself  unconscious  of  it :  it  was 
the  unfathomable  cunning  of  the  Suabian,  hidden,  as  it 
always  is,  under  the  mantle  of  geniality.  Experience  had 
taught  Schiller  how  to  deal  with  men.  Like  an  expert 
chess-player  he  knew  every  move  in  the  game  of  life. 
Those  with  whom  he  wished  to  be  on  good  terms  he  knew 
how  to  avoid  displeasing  :  I  need  only  remind  you  of 
Kotzebue.  If  he  wished  to  be  rid  of  a  man,  he  despatched 
him  with  aplomb  down  the  staircase :  I  need  only 
recall  to  you  his  letter  of  dismissal  to  August  Wilhelm 
Schlegel.  Whom  he  would  attract  he  charmed  with  the 
most  exquisite  manner :  I  need  only  refer  to  his  man- 
agement of  his  mother-in-law.  She  was  a  good-natured 
old  lady,  brought  up  among  aristocratic  conventions, 
ennobled  by  birth  and  marriage,  the  mother  of  nobly 
born  daughters,  —  one  of  whom  was  already  married 


SCHILLER'S  LETTER  TO  GOETHE.          397 

according  to  her  rank  ;  and  it  would  never  have  occurred 
to  her  even  in  a  dream  that  such  a  fate  could  befall  her 
unaffianced  daughter  as  to  be  borne  off  by  a  plebeian 
Professor  Honorarius  of  History,  whose  father  had  begun 
life  as  a  leech  !  The  way  in  which  Schiller  entrapped 
and  coaxed  this  simple  lady,  —  simple  in  the  best  sense 
of  the  word,  —  until  she  finally  almost  lost  her  senses  ; 
how  the  love  affair  was  first  concealed  from  her,  and  at 
last  such  a  general  assault  made  upon  her  that  a  wiser 
would  have  had  to  surrender,  —  all  this  was  irresistible ! 
Schiller's  letter  to  "  ma  chere  m£re,"  which  won  the  day, 
is  a  masterpiece,  and  with  all  her  pride  in  her  noble 
birth  the  good  Frau  von  Lengefeld  was  done  for !  Every 
objection  she  could  have  made  was  cut  off  beforehand. 
If  Schiller  had  lived  in  our  day,  no  rival  would  have  been 
allowed  to  go  ahead  of  him  in  the  Imperial  Diet,  and  few 
would  have  desired  to  meddle  with  him. 

The  decisive  step  for  Schiller  and  Goethe  was  Schil- 
ler's letter  of  the  23d  of  August,  1794.  This  letter, 
long,  broad,  circumstantial,  —  written  in  faultless,  color- 
less German, —  should  prove  to  Goethe  that  only  one  man 
among  his  contemporaries  was  capable  of  understanding 
him  fully  and  giving  public  evidence  of  it,  —  Schiller. 

Goethe,  in  his  character,  in  his  works,  in  his  first  suc- 
cesses, in  his  then  in  many  ways  misunderstood  position, 
could,  indeed,  be  truly  valued  by  no  one  but  Schiller. 
Goethe's  whole  career  was  spread  out  before  him,  —  what 
he  had  intended  to  do ;  what  he  had  attained ;  what  the 
German  people  owed  him;  and,  finally,  what  was  under- 
stood and  acknowledged  by  no  one  except  Schiller. 

Once  more  Schiller  offered  himself  to  Goethe ;  once 
more  he  proposed  a  fixed  programme ;  once  more  he  ranked 
himself  as  a  power  opposite  to  him,  —  no  longer  as  like  to 
like,  but  in  plainly  expressed  submission  to  him. 


398  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

And  this  time   Goethe  accepts  him,  and,  truly,  in  a 
way  that  manifests  his  real  magnanimity. 
His  letter  is  dated  Aug.  27,  1794  :  - 

"For  my  birthday,  which  occurs  this  week,  no  more 
agreeable  gift  could  have  come  to  me  than  your  letter,  in 
which  with  a  most  friendly  hand  you  sum  up  the  amount 
of  my  life,  and  through  your  sympathy  encourage  me  to  a 
more  earnest  and  vigorous  use  of  my  powers. 

"  The  highest  enjoyment  and  actual  benefit  must  be  recip- 
rocal ;  and  I  rejoice  to  have  a  suitable  opportunity  to  tell 
you  what  your  conversation  has  been  to  me,  and  how  I  also 
reckon  from  these  days  a  new  epoch,  and  am  contented, 
without  special  encouragement,  to  go  on  my  way,  —  since  it 
seems  as  if,  after  having  found  each  other  so  unexpectedly, 
we  must  now  continue  our  pilgrimage  together.  I  have- 
always  known  how  to  value  the  honesty  and  very  rare  ear- 
nestness which  shines  through  all  you  have  ever  written  or 
done.  I  may  now  claim  to  be  made  acquainted  by  yourself 
with  the  development  of  your  mind,  especially  in  these  lat- 
ter years." 

People  at  their  age  do  not  fall  upon  each  other's  necks, 
or  stand  together  by  night  at  the  window  gazing  up  at 
the  stars,  and  with  endearing  terms  kissing  each  other, 
but  adhere  to  the  forms  which  correspond  to  their  more 
mature  views  of  life.  They  say  to  one  another  the  most 
inspiring  things  which  can  be  put  into  words,  and  Goethe 
is  now  the  first  to  utter  the  word  "  friendship."  He  gives 
himself.  There  was  nothing  of  this  kind  in  Schiller's 
letter :  he  had  not  ventured  beyond  the  bounds  of  busi- 
ness courtesy.  But  it  is  insufferable  to  Goethe  that  he 
should  have  failed  to  appreciate  the  comprehensive  mind 
of  this  man.  With  mortification  he  recalls  his  earlier  be- 
havior, and  confesses  it  plainly  in  the  tone  he  now  strikes. 
He  gives  himself  so  ingeniously  and  without  reserve,  that 


SCHILLER   AND    GOETHE    STRIKE    HANDS  !      399 

now  Schiller  might  have  made  his  own  terms.  But  we 
recognize  Schiller's  greatness  in  the  moderation  with 
which  he  follows  up  his  success.  It  soon  dawns  upon  him 
how  falsely  he  too  has  judged  Goethe.  Goethe  had  no 
suspicion  of  the  letters  in  which  Schiller  had  pronounced 
judgment  upon  him  in  such  a  harsh  way  ;  but  Schiller 
was  conscious  of  his  error,  and  sought  so  far  as  possible 
to  make  amends  for  it.  The  separation  had  been  a  pre- 
paratory time  of  trial  for  both. 

Schiller  was  away  on  a  little  journey  when  Goethe's 
answer  reached  Jena.  He  gives,  in  his  reply  which  fol- 
lows,—  August  31,  —  a  continuance  of  his  letter  of  the 
23d:- 

"  Our  acquaintance,  though  late,  which  awakens  so  many 
fair  hopes,  is  a  fresh  proof  of  how  much  better  it  often  is  to 
let  accident  rule  than  to  anticipate  things  by  too  great 
officiousness.  However  intense  my  desire  has  been  to  enter 
with  you  into  a  more  intimate  relation  than  is  possible  be- 
tween the  spirit  of  an  author  and  his  most  attentive  reader, 
I  now  perfectly  understand  that  two  persons,  taking  such 
wholly  different  roads  as  you  and  I,  could  not  earlier  than 
just  at  this  moment  have  come  together  with  advantage. 
But  now  I  hope  that  so  much  of  the  way  as  may  yet  remain 
to  us  we  shall  pursue  together,  and  with  the  greater  gain ; 
since  travelling  comrades,  near  the  end  of  a  long  journey, 
always  have  the  most  to  say  to  each  other." 

It  is  not  conceivable  that  what  Schiller  wished  to  say 
could  have  been  better  or  more  beautifully  said.  Schiller 
was,  unquestionably,  the  master  of  German  prose.  How 
delicate  the  reproof  in  the  adjective  "  late  "  acquaintance, 
and  how  charmingly  he  at  the  same  time  exonerates  Goe- 
the from  blame !  How  sadly  prophetic  for  a  man,  still 
so  young,  the  "  so  much  of  the  way  as  may  yet  remain  to 
us,"  and,  directly  after,  the  overflowing  confidence  that 


400  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

henceforth  they  are  companions  in  arms !  He  next 
passes  on  to  a  characterization  of  his  individuality  as 
contrasted  with  Goethe's.  These  first  letters  of  the  cor- 
respondence contain  revelations  of  character  sufficient  to 
place  the  two  men  before  us  in  a  perfectly  clear  light,  if 
we  knew  nothing  else  about  them.  Dating  from  the  time 
of  these  letters,  the  correspondence  continues  regularly. 
September  4,  Goethe  invites  Schiller  to  Weimar,  where  he 
spends  a  fortnight  in  his  house  ;  and  then  one  should  read 
Schiller's  first  letter  after  his  return  to  Jena,  his  heart 
still  lingering  in  Weimar !  I  have  called  Goethe  a  pro- 
fessor. Now,  at  last,  he  has  found  a  listener  suited  to  his 
taste.  Schiller,  too,  asked  for  nothing  better.  Never 
did  he  overstep  the  limits,  by  one  line,  which  reverence 
and  gratitude,  and  the  feeling  that  he  was  receiving 
while  he  could  offer  nothing,  placed  between  him  and 
Goethe. 

In  speaking  of  the  growth  of  this  bond  of  friendship, 
there  is  one  more  element  which  must  be  taken  into  ac- 
count, which  had  been  at  work  secretly  all  the  time,  and 
without  which,  after  all,  these  two  men  could  hardly  have 
found  each  other,  since  their  natures  were  so  wholly  dif- 
ferent that  their  union  must  seem  a  kind  of  miracle. 

Schiller  had  insisted  on  having,  in  his  new  home,  what 
Goethe  had  declined,  —  a  wife  out  of  one  of  the  families 
of  the  Lower  Thuringian  nobles.  Schiller  himself  was, 
later,  ennobled  ;  and  from  that  time  his  wife  belonged 
again  to  the  most  aristocratic  Weimar  society.  While 
"  Goethe's  boy,"  as  Prau  von  Stein  called  him,  ran  about 
as  an  illegitimate  sprout,  Schiller's  children  were  blood  re- 
lations of  many  families  of  "  vons,"  who  had  a  right  to  con- 
sider themselves  the  first  in  the  Weimar  realm.  If  this 
marriage  raised  Schiller  a  step  higher  in  social  estimation, 
his  wife  was  in  other  respects  a  very  valuable  acquisition. 


SCHILLER'S  ADMIRABLE  WIFE.  401 

The  German  Frau  of  the  old  school  stands  to-day  in 
something  like  discredit.  Bashful  maidens,  believing  in 
ideals  and  revelling  in  tender  emotions,  who  on  their 
way  through  the  city  avoid  the  crowd  with  a  certain  re- 
served demeanor,  are  no  longer  regarded  as  successful 
specimens  of  modern  education.  We  require  that  a  young 
lady  should  have  a  certain  aggressiveness  in  her  nature, 
and  be  able  to  use  her  elbows  in  case  of  need,  so  that 
wicked  people,  not  only  out  of  respect,  but  from  some- 
thing akin  to  fear,  may  lose  all  desire  to  meddle  with  her. 
Experience,  however,  shows  that  many  of  these  coura- 
geous young  heroines  make,  later,  very  inefficient  house- 
keepers ;  while  the  more  reserved  maidens  overcome  the 
difficulties  attending  their  new  and  untried  domestic  rela- 
tions with  wonderful  success,  and  maintain  their  position 
with  tact  and  grace. 

What  makes  a  woman  strong  is  a  certain  subtlety  of 
mind,  —  a  well-trained  gift  of  observation.  Through  this 
she  learns  to  know  the  strong  and  weak  points  in  the 
character  of  those  with  whom  she  has  to  deal,  and  rules 
(while  she  appears  to  have  no  will  of  her  own)  more  pow- 
erfully than  those  combative  natures  to  whom  in  their  own 
homes  it  is  often  of  little  use  that  they  know  how  to  strike 
terror  into  the  breasts  of  strange  people  in  the  street. 

Schiller's  wife  was  one  of  those  delicate  natures.  As 
Lottchen  von  Lengefeld  she  is  well  known  through  her 
correspondence  with  her  lover,  and  later,  as  Lotte  Schil- 
ler, most  charmingly,  through  a  recently  published  cor- 
respondence with  an  old  Jena  pupil  of  her  husband's, — 
Fischenich.  Without  this  woman  Schiller  would  not  have 
lived  even  the  ten  years  which  were  granted  him  by  her 
side.  Perfectly  devoted,  almost  without  any  will  of  her 
own  where  Schiller's  wishes  were  concerned,  we  still 
never  find  her  wavering  in  her  own  individual  convic- 

26 


402  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

tions  ;  while  as  a  widow  she  worthily  sustained  Schiller's 
memory,  and  knew  how  to  educate  their  children.  Her 
gifts  were  not  brilliant,  and  her  desire  to  gain  knowledge 
had  at  times  something  pedantic  and  mechanical  in  it. 
Nevertheless,  she  sat  at  Schiller's  side  in  judgment  on 
Goethe's  thoughts  and  productions,  as  Herder's  wife 
did  beside  Herder ;  and  Goethe  paid  her  due  homage  in 
the  position  of  critic.  The  way  in  which  she  is  again  and 
again  brought  forward,  with  all  her  modesty,  shows  how 
indispensable  she  was  as  a  spiritual  element  in  her  circle. 
The  style  of  her  letters  is  simple  and  fluent,  and  displays 
the  same  natural  gift  which  in  her  sister  was  so  splen- 
didly cultivated  that  literary  histories  make  a  point  of 
noticing  her  novel  "  Agnes  von  Lilien,"  which  was  de- 
clared by  the  acute  contemporary  Jena  critics  to  be  an 
anonymous  work  of  Goethe's.  One  sees  by  Lotte  Schil- 
ler's letters  that  she  is  Caroline's  sister. 

To  Lotte  Schiller's  earliest  convictions  belonged  an 
absolute  faith  in  Goethe,  which  nothing  later  could  shake. 
We  see  with  what  spirit  she  sought,  in  her  correspond- 
ence with  Schiller,  to  conquer  his  aversion  to  his  great 
rival.  Schiller  was  inclined  to  acquiesce  in  all  the  views 
of  his  betrothed,  —  only,  when  she  tells  him  of  Goethe's 
great  and  good  heart,  he  refuses  to  believe  her.  He  ex- 
presses his  opinion  of  him  to  Lotte  in  the  strongest 
terms.  She  takes  it  calmly,  and  waits ;  but  always  after 
a  time  recurs  to  the  great  subject.  At  last  she  becomes 
wholly  silent  about  Goethe,  in  order  not  to  wound  Schil- 
ler ;  but  she  never  relinquishes  the  idea  of  a  union  be- 
tween the  two.  This  young  maiden's  holding  so  firmly  to 
Goethe  at  a  time  when  he  seemed  to  be  so  completely 
changed  that  even  his  best  friends  did  not  know  what  to 
make  of  him,  is  glorious  ;  and  it  appears  in  a  still  greater 
degree  the  emanation  of  an  independent  nature,  later, 


LOTTE    SCHILLER   THE   MEDIATOR.  403 

when  Lotte,  as  a  married  woman,  became  the  most  inti- 
mate friend  of  Frau  von  Stein,  sympathized  in  her  grief, 
mourned  with  her  what  she  had  lost,  and  certainly  shared 
her  aversion  to  Christiane,  whose  eternal  presence  in 
Weimar  was  a  cause  of  mortification  to  the  ladies  there. 
Under  these  circumstances,  Lotte  must  often  have  listened 
to  the  bitterest  things  said  against  Goethe ;  but  it  never 
had  any  influence  on  her  own  views  of  him.  Without  a 
doubt,  therefore,  when  the  possibility  finally  offered  of 
bringing  the  two  men  together,  Lotte  did  her  best  to  help 
on  matters  ;  for  though  I  have  represented  Schiller  as  a 
practised  chess-player,  whose  desire  it  was  to  checkmate 
Goethe,  yet  the  old  pride  was  strong  within  him,  as  also 
the  feeling  that  he  ought  to  be  sufficient  to  himself,  and 
to  make  no  further  advances  than  he  had  made.  It  lies 
chiefly  with  women,  after  all,  to  separate  men  or  to  hold 
them  together.  We  soon  see  how  Schiller's  wife,  in  her 
own  quiet,  womanly  waVj  influences  both  the  men,  and 
becomes  the  third  in  the  bond.  Goethe  takes  Lotte  and 
the  children  with  Schiller  into  his  heart.  It  is  a  beauti- 
ful picture,  after  the  "first  steps  had  been  taken,  to  see 
Goethe  in  Schiller's  house,  and  how  much  at  home  he  felt 
there ;  while  Schiller's  at  first  assumed  tone  of  depend- 
ence upon  Goethe  gradually  becomes  a  natural  one. 

Goethe's  effort  from  this  time  was  to  bring  his  friend 
back  to  Weimar,  in  which,  of  course,  he  succeeded. 

Their  correspondence  was  exchanged  for  daily  personal 
intercourse,  and  only  when  journeys,  or,  what  was  worse, 
illness,  for  a  time  separated  them,  did  the  short  notes 
take  on  again  the  substantial  character  of  the  old  corre- 
spondence. 


404  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 


LECTURE  XXL 

GOETHE   AND   SCHILLER   IN   WEIMAR. 

"\T  7HEN  two  men  of  conspicuous  ability  unite  in  a 
'•^  common  activity,  their  power  is  not  merely 
doubled  but  quadrupled.  Each  feels  the  other  invisibly 
beside  him.  The  formula  would  not  be  :  Goethe  -j-  Schil- 
ler, but  (Goethe  +  Schiller)  +  (Schiller  +  Goethe).  To 
each  accrues  the  power  of  the  other.  This  is  the  meaning 
of  every  business  company,  —  of  the  disciplined  army  as 
compared  with  single  warriors  brought  together  by  chance  ; 
of  an  academy  as  contrasted  with  accidental  co-operative 
labor.  "  Schiller  and  Goethe  "  is  a  collective  idea  in 
German  history.  They  stand  beside  one  another  in  Wri- 
mar,  with  hands  clasping  the  same  laurel  wreath.  This 
is  in  keeping  with  the  feeling  of  the  great  public  (who 
have  not  all  the  details  in  mind),  that  the  best  works  of 
Schiller  and  Goethe  were  the  result  of  their  united  power, 
and  that  neither  without  the  other  would  have  become 
what  he  was. 

But  here  a  distinction  obtains  ;  and,  if  we  may  be  al- 
lowed to  be  hypercritical,  we  must  say  that  Rietschel  in  his 
beautiful  group  reverses  the  relation  of  the  men  to  each 
other  by  the  apparel  in  which  he  clothes  them.  Rietschel 
has  represented  Goethe  in  court  costume ;  Schiller  in  a 
kind  of 'dressing-gown,  intended  to  denote  a  man  who 
rarely  left  his  study,  and  whose  great  broad  side-pockets 
suggest  a  certain  indigence.  Begas  has  also  adopted  this 


THE    FIKM    OF    SCHILLER   AND    GOETHE.        405 

coat  for  the  Berlin  statue  ;  but  it  is  to  be  hoped  it  will 
never  be  used  again. 

Things  were  not  so.  Schiller,  who  now  with  restless 
energy  began  life  anew",  is  actually  the  representative  of 
the  union.  Schiller's  delicate  health  was  never  allowed 
to  interfere  with  his  pursuits,  and  he  always  seemed  equal 
to  every  exertion.  He  returns  to  Weimar,  is  raised  to 
the  rank  of  noble,  appears  at  court,  drives  his  carriage 
and  horses,  and  altogether  conducts  his  mdnag-e  on  a  very 
comfortable  scale ;  while  Goethe  at  his  side  appears  more 
like  the  quiet  companion,  the  unpretending  private  friend, 
who  indeed  sought  so  far  as  possible  to  bestow  on  Schiller 
all  the  glory  resulting  from  the  new  alliance.  And  here 
I  will  say  at  once,  that  for  Schiller  this  union  with  Goethe 
was  the  dawn  of  a  new  epoch,  which  gave  rise  to  a  fresh 
scries  of  works,  in  which  Goethe  as  fellow  laborer  partici- 
pated ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  this  fellowship  was  only 
an  episode  for  Goethe,  and  what  he  achieved  during  its 
continuance,  in  the  way  of  new  works,  was  of  no  special 
importance  in  his  development.  Goethe  owed  to  Schiller 
a  reawakened  interest  in  producing  through  literary  work 
an  instantaneous  effect  upon  the  public.  Again  he  wrote, 
as  in  the  old  Frankfort  time,  in  sympathy  with  the  day 
and  the  hour ;  but  when  Schiller  finally  departed,  the 
great  stream  resumed  its  wonted  quiet  measure,  and 
flowed  on  lonely  as  before. 

Schiller  and  Goethe's  united  capital  was  a  power  against 
which  none  could  contend.  Their  position  was  such  to 
the  outer  world  that  they  defied  all  competition.  What 
they  gave  the  public  must  be  accepted  with  rapture,  and 
was  ever  so  received.  What  in  private  they  were  to  each 
other  was  so  absolutely  sufficient  to  them  both,  that  one 
who  felt  naturally  that  he  had  a  right  to  be  a  third  in  the 
bond,  was  thrust  out  in  the  most  cruel  manner;  —  not 


406  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

certainly  Wieland,  who  had  already  reached  that  age  of 
harmless  good  nature  when  one  takes  gratefully  whatever 
is  offered,  —  but  Herder.  From  Schiller's  friendship 
with  Goethe  dates  the  separation  of  Goethe  from  Herder, 
and  a  bitterness  entered  Herder's  soul  which  from  this 
time  never  left  it  again.  Fate  seemed  always  to  have 
misplaced  Herder  in  the  most  pitiful  way ;  and  that  he 
was  himself  conscious  of  this  did  not  a  little  add  to 
his  doleful  condition.  Armed  with  immense  intellectual 
power,  he  never  had  the  opportunity  to  give  it  full  scope, 
and  was  finally,  through  his  controversy  with  Wolf  (the 
odious  representative  of  an  hypothesis  by  which  archaeology 
still  suffers),  involved  in  undignified  conflicts  which  have 
injured  his  reputation  even  with  posterity.  To  later  gen- 
erations who  have  formed  acquaintance  wTith  this  great 
man  from  better  and  more  carefully  revised  editions  of 
his  writings,  it  will  be  an  enigma  why  such  a  mighty 
light  had  such  a  feeble  radiation.  Herder  reminds  one  of 
Leonardo  da  Vinci,  who,  by  the  side  of  Michael  Angelo 
and  Raphael  appears  as  a  giant,  but  as  a  giant  who,  after 
having  moved  some  rocks  which  no  other  hand  could 
have  lifted,  wasted  his  strength  in  the  treadmill  of  daily 
life.  But  until  the  very  last  Herder  retained  the  power 
to  wound  by  his  criticisms.  It  would  not  be  possible  to 
give  a  colder,  more  malicious  recognition  of  Goethe's  po- 
etical ability  than  Herder  gave  in  his  sketch  of  German 
literature  in  the  "  Adrastea."  This  is  his  expression : 
"  An  exact,  unsympathizing  description  of  the  visible." 
Every  word  is  a  cut  which  pierces  to  the  bone.  I  confess 
myself  to  a  personal  special  reverence  for  Herder,  in 
opposition  to  friends  who  have  a  much  cooler  feeling 
towards  him.  But  this  diabolical  power  to  strike  and 
hit  his  best  and  most  intimate  friends  frightens  me. 
Much  more  harmless  sounds  what  Knebel,  who  also  felt 


MUTUAL  AND  RECIPROCAL  LABORS.     407 

himself  set  aside  for  the  sake  of  Schiller,  repeated  to 
Herder's  wife  as  the  sarcasm  curreut  among  the  Jena 
people,  that  Goethe  was  "  the  most  polished  man  of  the 
age."  Here  was  only  the  wish  to  say  something  cutting, 
just  as  Heine,  thirty  years  later,  called  him  the  cold, 
gray  man  of  art,  — "  kalten  Kunstgrei."  Goethe  had 
silently  turned  away  from  Herder,  while  Schiller  gave 
strong  expression  to  his  dislike  of  him.  It  may  be  that 
without  Schiller  in  Weimar  Goethe  would  not  so  unre- 
lentingly have  stood  apart  from  his  oldest  friend  and 
teacher. 

What  Schiller  gained  through  Goethe  affected  all  his 
relations.  In  bringing  Cotta  gradually  into  connection 
with  Goethe  he  gave  to  the  most  enterprising  publisher, 
who,  domiciled  in  the  heart  of  Suabia,  controlled  the  South- 
German  market  at  that  time,  an  increase  of  power,  for 
which  Cotta  must  be  eternally  grateful  to  him ;  while 
Goethe  and  Schiller  secured  not  only  the  wide  circulation 
of  their  books  and  a  large  amount  of  money  for  them,  but 
insured  also  significant  salaries  to  all  on  whom  they  con- 
ferred the  honor  of  being  their  colaborers.  It  would  have 
been  impossible  at  that  time  to  have  started  a  magazine 
in  Germany  which  could  have  held  its  own  by  the  side 
of  the  "  Hours."  Schiller  and  Goethe  had  their  choice 
among  the  best  minds,  and  at  the  same  time  did  the 
principal  part  of  the  work  themselves. 

From  this  time,  Schiller  no  longer  needed  to  trouble 
himself  to  gain  the  good-will  of  strange  theatre  managers  ; 
the  Weimar  stage,  under  Goethe's  direction,  stood  always 
at  his  disposition.  In  Goethe's  house  the  first  inspiring 
rehearsals  of  Schiller's  dramas  were  held,  and  every  kind 
of  scenic  effect  tried  and  discussed  between  them ;  while 
Schiller  prepared  Goethe's  pieces  for  the  stage,  —  "  Iphi- 
genia,"  as  has  already  been  said,  and  "  Egmont." 


408  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

Schiller  no  longer  needed  to  regard  outside  critics  ; 
Goethe's  criticism  was  at  hand  from  the  very  first  con- 
ception of  his  dramas,  and  helped  him  vastly.  Goethe 
assisted  him  to  change  the  form  of  "  Wallenstein " 
(which  was  the  first  of  Schiller's  dramas  in  this  new 
epoch),  and  brought  it  out  on  the  stage,  every  character 
in  new  brilliant  satin  costume  ;  finally,  by  a  discussion  of 
it  in  Cotta's  "  Allgemeinen  Zeitung,"  he  dictated  to  the 
German  people  what  they  were  to  think  of  the  piece. 
How  Goethe's  hand  from  this  time  helped  to  mould 
all  Schiller's  creations  the  correspondence  shows ;  and 
(what  in  fact  has  been  already  said)  Goethe  supplied 
Schiller  with  ideas  so  profusely  that  this  union  rendered 
all  other  relations  unnecessary  to  him,  —  indeed,  in  a  cer- 
tain sense,  cancelled  them.  Korner  and  Huniboldt  re- 
main dear  as  ever  to  Schiller's  heart ;  but  as  critics  he 
could  henceforth  wholly  dispense  with  them. 

Goethe,  on  his  side,  found  in  Schiller  a  friend  who 
stimulated  him  unceasingly  to  poetical  and  critical  work, 
or  who  quietly  excited  Cotta  to  do  the  same  thing;  and 
by  his  unstinted  appreciation  he  reinstated  Goethe  at  once 
in  all  his  old  glory,  so  that  the  intervening  years  of  cold- 
ness vanished  like  a  dream,  and  his  life  seemed  a  contin- 
uance of  the  brilliant  Frankfort  epoch.  Schiller  and  Goe- 
the now  organized  public  opinion  in  the  best  sense  of  the 
word,  and  from  them  emanated  praise  and  blame  in  Ger- 
many ;  while  those  who  were  not  in  concert  with  them, 
and  would  have  preferred  to  take  the  position  of  critics 
themselves,  were  left  to  smother  as  they  could  their 
impotent  rage.  This  was  the  case  with  the  brothers 
Schlegel,  certainly  the  most  talented  writers  of  the  age, 
one  of  whom,  after  Schiller  had  shown  him  out  of  the 
door,  maintained  an  intercourse  with  Goethe  (for  this 
was,  another  advantage  of  Goethe  and  Schiller's  fra- 


ENEMIES    OF    GOETHE   AND    SCHILLER.         409 

ternity,  that,  if  they  liked,  they  could  repulse  people 
by  halves)  ;  while  Frederick  Schlegel  wholly  abdicated 
North  Germany,  and,  sustained  by  his  wife,  from  Vienna 
emitted  incessant  streams  from  his  poisonous  volcano 
against  Goethe.  Goethe's  oldest  enemies  in  our  century 
are  to  be  attributed  to  the  views  of  these  Romanticists  ; 
his  former  adversaries  are  antiquated  :  the  censures  of 
the  present  generation  are  still  of  literary  value  in  form- 
ing our  opinions.  Close  beside  Goethe,  in  Weimar  itself, 
some  of  these  vermin  planted  themselves,  —  Kotzebue, 
Merkel,  and  others,  contriving  to  sting  when  they  think 
they  can  do  so  with  impunity,  and  then,  as  cunningly, 
making  themselves  invisible.  If  Goethe  succeeded  in 
evading  a  great  man  like  Herder,  he  certainly  considered 
this  rabble  rout  so  far  beneath  his  notice  that  he  let  them 
go  wholly  unpunished.  But,  if  we  look  into  the  depth  of 
the  matter,  Schiller's  literary  policy  strikes  us  as  a  very 
questionable  thing ;  since  there  were  always  about  him 
people  whose  good-will  he  did  not  wish  to  forfeit.  Between 
him  and  Goethe  these  subjects  were  never  discussed. 
The  great  intrigue  to  separate  these  two  men,  once  spun 
by  their  enemies  in  Weimar,  and  based  chiefly  on  their 
own  mean  conception  of  Schiller's  vanity,  called  forth 
scarcely  an  explanatory  word  between  the  friends.  Schil- 
ler and  Goethe's  communion  rested  on  firmer  ground. 
How  could  they  dispense  with  one  another  ?  These 
two  men,  who  lived  in  the  interchange  of  the  highest 
thoughts,  felt  too  deeply  the  world-historical  significance 
of  their  union  to  heed  the  trivialities  of  a  few  passing 
days. 

Goethe  had  found  in  Schiller  a  friend  whose  endeavor  it 
was  to  be  introduced  into  all  the  paths  which  his  thoughts 
had  followed,  and  Schiller  quickly  made  himself  thor- 
oughly at  home  in  departments  into  which  Goethe  had 


410  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

only  given  him  a  cursory  glance.  Schiller  united  to  the 
ardor  of  the  pupil  the  ripe  critical  judgment  of  the  man, 
who  feels  himself  to  be  the  equal  of  the  master. 

And  now,  most  felicitously  for  them  both,  their  friend- 
ship bore  within  it  the  possibility  of  an  endless  growth. 
Their  natures  were  so  radically  different  that  the  moment 
would  never  come  when  one  would  be  merged  in  the 
other.  The  good  Kunst-Meyer,  after  living  some  years 
in  familiar  intercourse  with  Goethe,  had  become  so  in- 
fused with  Goethe's  views,  and  Goethe  with  his,  that 
neither  of  them  could  have  given  any  opinion  in  matters 
of  art  with  which  the  other  was  not  already  acquainted. 
Schiller  and  Goethe  could  never  have  so  melted  into 
one  another.  As  two  converging  lines  which  by  small 
intervening  spaces  are  still  prevented  from  uniting,  they 
would  again  and  again  have  found  some  reason  for  re- 
newed divergence.  Goethe,  in  his  deepest  soul,  thought 
absolutely  unlike  Schiller.  He  recognized  only  Schiller's 
person,  his  strivings,  his  manly  greatness.  What,  on 
the  other  hand,  Schiller  understood  as  poetry  was  no 
poetry  at  all  to  Goethe.  Schiller's  way  of  creating  was 
something  wholly  foreign  to  Goethe.  Schiller  searched 
for  his  matter ;  then  worked  upon  it  long  enough  to  get 
it  completely  into  his  hands,  after  which  he  composedly 
made  his  disposition  of  it.  Now  he  labors  on  it,  from  day 
to  day,  as  a  mason  erecting  a  palace  according  to  a  dis- 
tinct plan  ;  then  follows  the  plastering,  ornamenting,  and 
furnishing  ;  till,  finally,  with  a  certain  splendor  of  novelty, 
the  edifice  is  submitted  to  the  use  of  the  public. 

This  knowledge  of  technique  was  Schiller's  power.  He 
was  a  poet  by  profession,  and  recognized  as  valid  the 
claims  of  other  professional  poets.  Goethe  certainly  un- 
derstood this,  but  not  for  himself.  He  handled  the  tech- 
nical questions,  which  as  regards  the  genesis  of  poetical 


UNLIKENESS    OF   THE    TWO    POETS.  411 

works  and  their  criticism  are  of  so  much  value,  with 
the  greatest  seriousness,  but  quite  objectively.  Creating' 
poetry  was  to  him  an  incomprehensible  process.  Who- 
ever asked  Goethe  whether  he  should  become  a  poet 
fared  pretty  badly.  Young  people  gifted  with  the  rhym- 
ing faculty  have  the  natural  faith  that  there  is  an  Are- 
opagus somewhere  which,  solemnly  and  authoritatively, 
can  give  them  the  license  to  write  verses  which  will 
be  a  success,  —  which  means,  will  be  read  and  admired. 
Goethe  had  only  one  reply  to  make  to  such  applicants, 
contained  in  this  simile  :  "  The  genuine  silk-worm  needs 
only  to  eat  leaves,  and  the  silk  is  sure  to  appear.  "  He 
answered  evasively,  warningly,  doubtfully.  Schiller,  on 
the  contrary,  enters  into  the  matter  cheerfully,  criticises 
the  verses  sent  him,  and,  if  he  likes  them,  advises  the 
young  people  to  work  on  diligently.  He  encourages 
them  ;  but  at  the  same  time  says,  "  one  must  dedicate 
himself  wholly  to  the  poetic  art  if  one  would  attain  any- 
thing," and  more  of  the  like  practical  advice. 

How  could  Goethe,  in  his  intercourse  with  Schiller, 
pretend  to  acquiesce  in  all  this  while  his  nature  dis- 
avowed it  ?  Here,  having  spoken  of  what  forever  pre- 
vented the  lines  from  meeting,  we  must  turn  to  the  other 
element  which  constantly  drew  them  towards  each  other. 

Goethe  had  learned  that  without  the  aid  of  mechanical 
skill  no  perfect  poetry  could  be  achieved.  Plastic  art 
had  first  taught  him  this,  and  the  poetical  works  of  the 
Greeks  confirmed  it.  In  the  fabrication  of  Greek  verse 
there  was  much  "  Meistersangerei."  Goethe  always  felt 
and  regretted  the  lack  of  mechanical  proficiency  in  his 
art.  He  would  have  liked  to  write,  not  as  in  a  dream, 
but  clearly  conscious  of  what  he  wa-s  doing.  He  had, 
not  only  in  the  Greeks,  but  in  Shakspeare  as  well,  recog- 
nized the  advantage  contained  in  the  fact,  that  as  paid 


412  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

theatre  poet  a  man  was  forced  to  regard  the  satisfaction 
of  the  public  as  his  decisive  criterion. 

For  himself,  indeed,  Goethe  was  unable  to  profit  by 
this  knowledge,  —  his  manner  remained  the  same.  But 
Schiller  should  have  the  benefit  of  his  experience.  Hence 
it  seems  sometimes  (read  the  correspondence)  as  if  Schil- 
ler wrote  his  pieces  as  Goethe's  plenipotentiary.  Goethe 
gives  the  orders :  Schiller  carries  them  out.  In  little 
things  Goethe  springs  personally  to  help,  by  adding  or 
erasing.  This  working  together,  which  proved  the  source 
of  the  greatest  pleasure  to  both,  never  tempted  them  to 
encroach  on  each  other's  rights ;  for  Schiller  was  never 
initiated  into  his  friend's  innermost  ideas,  however  much 
Goethe  persuaded  him  that  he  valued  his  advice.  Schil- 
ler as  theatre  poet  displays  a  vast,  steadily  productive 
activity,  calculating  one  summer  for  a  play  ;  and  on  this 
he  concentrates  all  his  faculties.  Goethe,  with  just  as 
much  of  a  regular  plan,  begins  to  publish  a  rare  amount 
of  accumulated  material,  —  poetry,  prose,  and  scientific 
matter.  It  was  not  so  much  his  intention  to  manifest  his 
own  nature  in  his  new  works,  as  to  mature  the  opinion  of 
the  public  and  to  feel  himself  in  direct  communication 
with  it ;  and  this  is  the  emphasis  of  his  work.  Both  of 
the  men  furnish  immense  material ;  while  Cotta  stands 
ever  at  hand  with  an  unlimited  supply  of  paper,  ready  to 
pay  enormous  salaries,  and  sustained  by  a  public  who 
have  unlimited  capacity  for  receiving  all  that  is  offered 
them. 

But  now  the  question  arises,  How  would  things  have 
gone  on  if  Schiller  had  lived  ? 

It  seems  unnecessary  to  ask  what  nobody  can  answer, 
or  indeed  needs  to  know.  I  have  jnst  shown  in  the 
diversity  of  the  two  natures  a  guarantee  for  the  inex- 
haustibleness  of  the  ever-growing,  ever-expanding  friend- 


THE   HISTOKIC    SENSE    IN    GOETHE.  413 

ship.  Some  remarks  concerning  Goethe's  past  life,  which 
lie  himself  dropped  in  later  years,  lead  us  to  conjecture 
what  might  have  arisen. 

This  union  never  was  to  Goethe  what  it  was  to  Schiller, 
—  the  culmination  of  his  life,  —  but  rather  like  a  ten  years' 
marriage,  at  the  end  of  which  one  loses  the  beloved  com- 
panion, who  is  long  sincerely  mourned,  but  after  a  time 
more  calmly  estimated.  The  time  came  when  Goethe 
was  able  to  discuss  Schiller  as  freely  and  impartially  as 
he  did  himself.  But  we  cannot  doubt  that  Goethe  knew 
the  nature  of  their  friendship  perfectly  while  Schiller  was 
still  living.  Goethe  possessed  the  gift  of  being  able  to  re- 
gard contemporary,  things  in  an  historical  light.  He  says 
indeed,  "  It  is  impossible  to  show  the  day  to  the  day ; " 
but  this  only  proves  how  unique  was  the  capacity  in  him 
to  do  this.  He  saw  with  the  eyes  of  the  future,  and 
judged  the  present  as  we  judge  things  of  fifty  years  ago. 
He  knows  as  early  as  1820  that  there  is  no  perception 
in  Germany  of  the  real  value  of  the  present.  He  shows 
himself  indifferent  to  politics  in  his  old  age,  because  he 
foresees  the  storm  which  must  break  out  in  Germany 
without  any  intervention  from  himself  or  others.  There- 
fore his  opinions  have  an  influence  to-day,  owing  to  their 
truth  and  correctness.  With  the  genuine  historian  ob- 
jects retreat,  without  any  effort  on  his  part,  to  exactly 
the  right  distance,  —  as  the  portrait-painter  knows  how 
far  back  or  how  near  he  must  step  to  see  a  head  in  its  true 
proportions.  There  are  characters  which  can  be  repre- 
sented only  in  simple  colossal  lines,  and  which  appear  to 
the  best  advantage  at  a  great  distance  ;  while  others  are 
effective  only  in  miniature,  and  must  be  held  close  to  the 
eye.  Goethe,  in  his  intercourse  with  Schiller,  never  for- 
got on  what  a  height  Schiller  stood  ;  but  there  he  watched 
and  criticised  him  calmjy  as  any  other  historical  object. 


414  LIFE   AXD    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

Twenty  years  after  Schiller's  death  Goethe  expressed  his 
opinion  of  his  friend  in  the  following  manner  :  "  Schiller, 
who  had  a  genuine  poetic  nature,  but  whose  mind  was 
philosophical,  accomplished  much  by  sheer  force  of  rea- 
soning which  in  a  poet  should  arise  intuitively  and  spon- 
taneously. He  tempted  many  young  people  to  follow  in 
his  path,  although  they  only  succeeded  in  so  far  as  to 
imitate  his  language.  So  much  for  Schiller's  rhetoric !  " 
And  further,  when  Eckermann,  Goethe's  last  amanuensis, 
asked  for  instruction  as  to  what  he  could  do  for  himself 
as  a  poet,  Goethe  for  once  vouchsafed  a  species  of  en- 
couragement by  saying  :  "  Concentrate  your  powers.  If  I 
had  been  wise  enough  to  do  so  thirty  years  ago,  I  should 
have  accomplished  something  vastly  different.  "What  an 
amount  of  time  I  wasted  with  Schiller  over  the  '  Hours,' 
and  the  '  Muses'  Almanac  ' !  Just  within  the  last  few 
days,  in  looking  over  our  letters,,  all  has  come  vividly 
before  me  again.  I  cannot  think  of  those  undertakings 
without  vexation,  wherein  the  world  abused  us,  and  which 
were  wholly  without  result  for  ourselves." 

What  does  the  expression  mean,  "  Wherein  the  world 
abused  us  "  ?  Had  not  Schiller  and  Goethe  forced  their 
undertakings  on  the  world  ?  It  must  be  that  Goethe 
would  not  speak  more  plainly  through  fear  of  being  mis- 
understood by  Eckermann,  whose  comprehension  did  not 
reach  beyond  certain  limits.  What  he  really  meant  was 
that  Schiller  had  abused  him.  We  must  take  the  word 
here  in  its  best  and  noblest  sense.  He  meant  to  say,  "  If  I 
had  quietly  kept  on  my  solitary  way,  which  was  in  accord- 
ance with  my  nature,  I  should  have  made  more  progress 
than  by  all  my  great  enterprises  with  Schiller."  When 
Goethe  recovered  self-possession  and  repose  after  Schil- 
ler's death,  he  looked  back  upon  these  last  ten  years  of 
his  life  as  a  traveller  who,  having  long  wandered  through 


POSSIBLE   EESULT    OF   THE    FKIENDSHIP.       415 

much  toil  and  weariness  in  foreign  lands,  returns  at 
last  exhausted,  though  enriched  with  countless  experi- 
ences, to  find  at  home  quite  as  much  accomplished  in  a 
different  way,  —  things  having  progressed  quietly  during 
his  absence,  carried  forward  by  their  own  law  of 'gravi- 
tation ;  and  while  he  would  not  give  up,  for  any  price, 
the  remembrance  of  his  toil,  he  cannot  help  acknowl- 
edging to  himself  that  he  might  have  been  of  much 
more  benefit  to  himself  and  others  with  less  waste  of 
power. 

So  much  we  may  infer.  At  any  rate,  Goethe  looked  at 
things  in  this  light  if  only  on  the  one  day  when  he  talked 
them  over  with  Eckermann.  He  regarded  his  co-opera- 
tion with  Schiller  as  the  greatest  outward  event  of  his 
life,  Schiller  as  the  most  remarkable  person  he  had 
ever  met,  and  his  loss  as  the  bitterest  that  ever  befell 
him.  He  looked  back  on  those  times  as  a  general  on  a 
victorious  campaign,  about  which  result  there  can  be  no 
doubt,  while  at  the  same  time  there  might  be  some  ques- 
tion as  to  whether  it  would  be  wise  to  continue  such  an 
heroic  career.  One  would  not  pass  his  whole  life  hurry- 
ing from  victory  to  victory !  And  therefore  we  ask, 
What  would  have  happened  if  Schiller  had  lived  longer  ? 
Would  he  have  succeeded  every  year  in  all  the  future  in 
starting  a  new  literary  undertaking,  and  monopolizing 
Goethe  as  his  ally  ?  We  must  admit  its  possibility,  for 
who  ever  appeared  before  or  after  who  engrossed  Goethe 
as  Schiller  did  ?  But  how  about  Goethe's  sense  of  inde- 
pendence ?  Perhaps  one  day  he  might  here  also  have 
said  "  Enough !  "  and  actually  carried  out  the  purpose 
ever  lurking  in  the  background  of  flying  to  Rome,  and 
remaining  there  forever.  It  seems  foolish  to  speculate 
thus  ;  but  what  Goethe  has  said  forces  upon  us  these 
questions. 


416  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

Certainly  there  would  have  been  warlike  times  for 
Goethe  had  the  Ten  Years  been  at  Schiller's  side.  Their 
friendship  was  not  a  year  old  when  Goethe,  through  Schil- 
ler, became  involved  in  an  affair  which  he  had  neither 
foreseen,  nor  with  his  own  hand  would  ever  have  under- 
taken,—  the  renowned  and  most  notorious  "  Xcnien- 
kampf  "  :  to  speak  more  clearly,  the  offensive  alliance 
of  Schiller  and  Goethe  against  their  united  literary  con- 
temporaries, for  the  purpose  of  clearing  themselves  by 
one  fell  stroke  from  an  amount  of  uncertain  relations, 
and  of  establishing  the  firm  of  Schiller  and  Goethe  as 
absolutely  self-supporting,  against  all  other  firms. 

I  might  assert  that  not  only  had  Schiller  recognized 
the  result  of  this  proceeding  more  clearly  than  Goethe, 
but  had  also  more  decidedly  wished  it. 
'  It  was  first  announced  by  the  issue  of  a  number  of 
witty,  harmless  headings,  in  the  form  of  distichs,  ad- 
dressed to  different  persons  and  things  in  Germany  that 
needed  a  gentle  reproof.  While  they  were  engaged  in 
the  work,  the  thought  struck  them  that  a  certain  com- 
pleteness would  not  be  amiss  ;  so  it  came  to  pass  that  no 
one  went  unscathed,  and,  to  do  no  injustice,  the  nearest 
neighbors  by  no  means  came  off  best.  At  the  outset  no 
one  was  seriously  disturbed,  for  the  persons  attacked  did 
not  rightly  know  whether  they  ought  to  laugh  or  cry. 
But  by  degrees  some  were  too  sharply  hit  to  be  able  to 
pretend  to  ignore  the  home  thrusts ;  and  thereupon  a 
storm  of  indignation  broke  out,  followed  by  attempts  to 
retaliate  like  with  like.  The  result  was  both  poets  saw 
themselves  attacked  and  blamed.  This  perhaps  they  had 
expected ;  but  at  the  same  time  they  must  defend  them- 
selves, and  to  this  they  were  driven.  Schiller  was  once 
so  much  excited  that  he  thought  of  applying  to  the  police 
for  protection  against  the  personal  insults  let  loose  upon 


RISE    OF   THE    KOMAISTTIC    SCHOOL.  417 

Goethe  and  himself ;  for,  unable  to  take  revenge  on  the 
thing,  one  seeks  to  do  so  on  the  person. 

While  Goethe  was  of  opinion  that  it  was  best  to  let 
the  storm  spend  its  force,  Schiller  only  saw  one  means 
of  salvation,  which  was  to  form  a  faction.  This  was  the 
beginning  of  a  school  of  poetry  whose  name  even  yet  pre- 
serves its  glory,  —  the  so-called  "  Romantische  Schule." 
At  the  outset  it  was  a  union  of  the  young  and  rising 
talent  of  the  country,  which  centred  in  Jena,  and,  being 
needed,  was  allowed  free  course,  —  of  whom  Schiller  took 
command  as  their  stern  leader.  Goethe  stood  in  the 
background  as  highest  authority. 

The  Romantic  School  undertook  to  defend  their  two 
leaders  in  the  midst  of  these  difficulties.  They  declared 
Schiller  and  Goethe  td  be  beyond  competition  the  greatest 
poets,  —  in  fact  all  others  were  left  out  of  consideration  ; 
and  only  they,  the  Romanticists,  were  recognized  as  next 
of  kin  and  inheritors  of  the  true  art  of  poetry.  Goethe's 
popularity  was  now  far  greater  than  it  had  ever  been. 
Schiller's  works  drew  Goethe's  along  with  them.  Goethe 
was  valued  as  the  first  poet  of  the  German  nation.  Crabb 
Robinson  says  in  the  year  1800  :  "  Goethe  was  the  ideal 
of  the  literary  world  in  Germany."  Goethe  acquiesced : 
who  would  not  ?  But  scarcely  was  Schiller  dead,  when 
he  gently  disengaged  himself  from  the  whole  crew. 

Schiller  worked  from  the  beginning  with  a  ruined  con- 
stitution. He  was  ill  when  he  first  came  to  Thuringia, — 
suffering  from  spasms  in  his  chest.  "When  Goethe  invited 
him  for  the  first  time  to  visit  him  in  Weimar,  Schiller 
accepted,  explaining  at  the  same  time  how  carefully  he 
was  obliged  to  live  :  this  letter  makes  us  feel  under  what 
menacing  and  burdensome  conditions  Schiller  created  his 
noblest  works.  The  grandest  productions  of  his  life  were 
crowded  into  ten  wretched  years.  He  worked  feverishly, 

27 


418  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

hastening  from  one  work  to  another,  and,  even  before  the 
preceding  one  was  finished,  bearing  about  with  him  new 
plans  for  a  fresh  undertaking.  He  must,  as  he  said  him- 
self, pursue  many  great  enterprises  at  the  same  time, 
going  from  one  to  another,  to  stimulate  his  working 
power.  But  one  day  the  golden  store  was  exhausted ; 
there  was  a  sudden  close  as  with  Byron,  Raphael,  Mo- 
zart. Had  these  lived  slower,  they  might  perhaps  have 
overcome  the  fell  disease  which  destroyed  them ;  but 
they  had  lived  too  fast,  too  extravagantly,  to  have  any- 
thing in  reserve  for  such  an  emergency.  Schiller  wrote 
between  1795  and  1805  the  three  dramas  which  together 
constitute  his  "  Wallenstein," —  "Marie  Stuart,"  the 
"  Jungfrau  von  Orleans,"  the  "  Braut  von  Messina,"  fol- 
lowed by  "  "Wilhelm  Tell,"  and  died  just  after  beginning 
the  "  Demetrius."  At  the  same  time  he  wrote  a  quan- 
tity of  small  things,  —  minor  poems,  though  not  short  ones, 
treatises,  and  essays  ;  added  to  these  a  rare  correspond- 
ence with  friends,  besides  an  extensive  business  corre- 
spondence ;  finally  the  editing  of  the  "  Hours  "  and  the 
"  Muses'  Almanac,"  and  other  considerable  undertak- 
ings. Schiller  utilized  every  moment,  and  was  obliged 
to  resort  to  violent  means  near  the  end  to  conquer  the 
weariness  of  the  flesh.  A  sadder  struggle  was  never 
fought  between  desire  to  work  and  breaking  down.  With 
regard  to  Schiller's  last  hours,  the  best  and  calmest  ac- 
count is  to  be  gathered  from  the  letters  of  the  younger 
Voss  (son  of  the  renowned  Voss),  who,  hastening  himself 
to  an  early  death,  was  the  teacher  of  Schiller's  children. 
A  gentle,  finely  strung,  thoroughly  cultured  nature,  he 
loved  Schiller  with  a  childlike  affection,  and  in  his  last 
hours  lent  him  a  helpful  hand. 

One  always  has  the  feeling  that  there  was  some  mistake 
about  Schiller's  early  death,  —  as  if  the  misfortune  might 


PATHETIC    BREVITY    OF    SCHILLER' S    LIFE.     419 

have  been  averted.  "We  seek  to  blame  some  one  for  it ; 
and,  since  it  came  so  naturally  and  was  so  inevitable,  we 
try  to  find  at  least  something  to  complain  of  in  the  man- 
ner in  which  he  was  buried.  Since  here  too  it  seems 
that  everything  was  done  properly  and  in  order,  people 
have  made  attempts  to  reproach  Goethe  with  a  lack  of 
sympathy  for  Schiller.  Goethe  was  ill  himself  at  the 
moment  of  Schiller's  death.  We  know  exactly  how  he 
bore  it  when  the  dreadful  news  could  no  longer  be  con- 
cealed from  him.  There  is  nothing  more  affecting  than 
to  see  Goethe  as  he  stands  bereft,  forsaken,  and  saying 
to  himself  that  this  loneliness  must  forever  be  his;  for 
Goethe  knew  life  well  enough  to  be  sure  that  Nature,  who 
only  grants  "  the  necessary,"  would  not  bestow  on  him  a 
second  time  such  a  friend. 


420  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 


LECTURE  XXII. 

SCHILLER   AND   GOETHE. 

TF  a  history  of  German  literature  were  to  be  given,  it 
•*-  would  be  absolutely  necessary,  in  speaking  of  the 
united  work  of  Schiller  and  Goethe,  to  speak  also  of  the 
great  movement  in  the  literary  world  which  arose  with 
it.  This  was  the  chaos  out  of  which  the  world  of  thought 
in  our  century  was  evolved.  Farther  back  we  need  not 
go,  but  thus  far  it  is  necessary  to  go.  Then  began  the 
new  era  in  poetry,  philosophy,  philology,  and  history, 
which  is  still  in  progress  of  development,  brilliantly 
inaugurated  by  the  labors  of  the  learned  men  of  Jena, 
at  the  close  of  the  former  and  the  beginning  of  this 
century. 

As  soon  as  we  fix  our  eyes  upon  Goethe  only,  however, 
the  scene  changes.  We  saw  him  before  his  union  with 
Schiller  a  lonely  man,  guided  on  his  destined  way  by 
stars  whose  light  shone  for  him  alone.  By  the  side  of 
Schiller  we  see  him  for  a  number  of  years,  in  the  midst 
of  the  great  and  universal  progress  of  the  nation,  occupy- 
ing a  leading  position  ;  but  we  also  see  that,  as  soon  as 
Schiller  dies,  he  falls  back  into  his  old  seclusion.  Goethe, 
our  greatest  poet  and  writer,  had  very  little  direct  con- 
nection with  the  general  literary  work  of  his  day*  Its 
representatives  had  a  certain  intercourse  with  him ;  but 
it  never  amounted  to  systematic,  continuous  co-operation. 


HOW   FAR    SCHILLEK   AIDED    GOETHE.          421 

Goethe  never  gave  to  the  public  anything  but  what  ac- 
cident had  brought  to  him  as  a  gift.  As  poet  or  learned 
man  he  planned,  willed,  and  executed  but  little :  his 
labor  at  times,  indeed,  assumed  the  character  of  regular 
productivity,  especially  under  Schiller's  helpful  presence  ; 
but  it  never  was  such,  even  then.  As  soo-n  as  he  was 
tired  of  things,  he  left  them  alone.  Only  in  matters  of 
science  did  he  make  an  exception. 

And,  further,  although  Goethe's  poems  between  1795 
and  1805  seemed  to  be  called  forth  by  Schiller's  help 
and  co-operation,  Goethe  in  truth  produced  them  wholly 
by  himself.  Although  no  verse  of  "  Iphigenia  "  was  de- 
clared finished  without  Prau  von  Stein,  Herder,  and 
Wieland's  approval,  yet  we  must  not  for  a  moment  think 
of  it  as  having  been  written  with  the  aid  of  these  persons  ; 
nor  can  any  one  point  to  a  single  sentence  in  Goethe's 
works  attributable  to  Schiller's  influence.  They  are  all 
alike  the  product  of  Goethe's  unaided  genius.  Schiller's 
suggestions  had  had  some  effect  on  the  final  form  of 
"  Wilhelm  Meister,"  but  only  so  far  as  to  induce  Goethe 
to  make  outward  changes  in  it,  for  the  sJje  of  which  he 
as  it  were  lent  his  pen  to  Schiller.  Schiller  might  have 
failed,  and  then  Goethe  would  have  fallen  back  upon  the 
advice  of  the  earlier  critics  to  whom  he  was  accustomed. 
The  result  of  Schiller's  advice  on  "  Wilhelm  Meister  " 
is  almost  to  be  regretted.  Without  him,  the  romance 
would  not  have  been  rounded  off'  in  such  an  absurd  way, 
but  as  a  fragment  would  have  produced  a  far  greater 
impression. 

Goethe  was  busy  about  the  "  Roman  Elegies  "  when  he 
renewed  Schiller's  acquaintance. 

Their  origin  has  been  already  mentioned :  they  are  the 
incidents  of  his  late  Weimar  experience  transfigured  into 
Roman  reminiscences.  But  after  they  had  once,  as  fin- 


422  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

ished  poems,  gained  for  themselves  an  independent  exist- 
ence, Goethe,  who  never  again  forgot  the  teachings  of  the 
classic  masters,  subjected  them  to  a  most  unmerciful  pol- 
ishing. They  must  be  wholly  detached  from  himself,  and 
be  able  to  stand  on  their  own  merits.  He  makes  them 
undergo  the  severest  schooling.  He  gives  them  into  the 
hands  of  strangers,  that  nothing  may  cling  to  them  indic- 
ative of  any  personal  relations ;  and  the  result  is  that 
these  verses  have  an  individuality  quite  unlike  any  of 
his  former  productions.  We  do  not  think  of  Goethe  as 
entertaining  us  with  mere  fictions,  but  these  hexameters 
excite  our  imagination  so  powerfully  as  to  have  the  effect 
of  immediate  realities.  Even  knowing,  as  we  do,  that 
they  are  only  the  Weimar  events  transferred  to  Rome, 
we  still  waive  this  knowledge,  and  enjoy  the  "  Elegies  " 
as  "  Roba  di  Roma,"  without  wishing  any  one  to  tell  us 
about  their  origin.  It  is  the  same  spirit  which  makes 
Homer's  Iliad  seem  to  us  so  like  a  verbal  narration 
of  actual  facts,  and  leads  us  to  seek  to-day  for  the 
Scaean  gates  and  the  fountain  and  fig-tree  whose  situation 
Homer  so  clearly  and  unmistakably  points  out.  The 
scholar  will  ever,  with  the  Iliad  and  Odyssey  in  hand, 
recognize  anew  the  plains  of  Troy,  and  explore  the  cav- 
ern of  Ithaca  in  which  lay  the  sleeping  Odysseus;  and 
readers  of  the  "Elegies"  will  never  cease  to  visit  in 
Rome  the  tavern  where  Goethe  met  with  his  adventure. 
Goethe's  imagination  here  created  a  living  reality,  as  Pro- 
pertius  had  done  before  him,  whose  nightly  adventures  in 
the  streets  of  Rome  seem  as  genuinely  true  as  if  the  state- 
ments of  a  reporter  had  been  put  into  hexameters  who 
was  utterly  incapable  of  drawing  on  his  fancy,  and  whose 
sole  business  it  was  to  relate  the  facts  as  literally  as  lan- 
guage would  permit. 

Where  now  lay  this  art  of  writing  in  the  classic  sense, 


THE    GROWTH   OF    GOETHE' S    WORKS.  423 

so  as  to  produce  the  effect  of  what  I  term  reality  ?  This 
might  have  been  asked  when  we  spoke  of  the  Roman  re- 
modelling of  "  Iphigenia,"  and  of  the  final  reason  for  the 
decided  change  which  Goethe's  artistic  creations  under- 
went in  Rome,  and  what  the  secret  which  was  unveiled 
to  him  there  that  now  made  the  works  and  writings  of 
the  Greeks  indispensable  to  him  as  models.  If  we  would 
give  it  the  correct  name,  we  should  say  that  Goethe  won 
in  Italy  what  we  call  "  style." 

The  "  style "  of  a  work  is  often  enough  discussed. 
Every  one  speaks  of  it.  We  say  a  work  has  "  style,"  or 
that  it "  wants  style  ;  "  but  not  every  one  at  the  first  glance 
would  be  able  to  explain  what  is  meant  by  "style,"  or, 
at  the  second,  what  he  meant  by  it  in  this  particular  in- 
stance. Yet  the  distinction  is  made  again  and  again, 
and  the  word,  however  vague  its  meaning  may  be,  is  in- 
dispensable to  us. 

What  is  "  style  "  ?  What  distinguishes  the  last  form 
of  "  Iphigenia  "  from  the  earlier  ones  ? 

To  answer  these  questions,  I  will  now  carry  further 
the  expression  which  I  used  before.  Goethe  wished  that 
the  "  Roman  Elegies  "  should  live  independent  of  their 
author. 

YoU  know  how  important  the  knowledge  of  the  devel- 
opment of  a  child  is  from  its  first  conception.  In  place 
of  "  child,"  we  will  now  say  "  work  of  art." 

We  believe  that  we  are  able  to  follow  the  growth  of 
more  than  one  of  Goethe's  artistic  creations  from  the 
moment  when  it  flashed  upon  his  mind.  We  watch  the 
first  mysterious  movements  :  it  exists,  and,  at  the  same 
time,  it  is  not  in  existence.  W^e  see  it  grow,  and  finally, 
with  perfectly  formed  members,  come  into  the  world. 
Now  it  is  here,  and  lives.  The  study  of  this  genesis,  this 
development  out  of  nothing  into  personality,  seems  with 


424  LIFE    AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

the  work  of  art,  as  with  the  child,  the  most  important 
thing.  So  soon  as  one,  like  the  other,  conies  to  the  light 
of  day,  a  living  thing,  mystery  ceases.  But  in  a  spiritual 
sense  it  only  now  begins.  The  climax  in  the  career  of 
a  child  is  not  the  moment  when  he  enters  on  his  individ- 
ual life,  but  the  epoch  when,  his  education  accomplished, 
in  spiritual  independence  even  of  his  parents  he  begins  a 
life  directed  by  his  own  free  will,  —  when  the  boy  has  be- 
come a  man. 

In  the  old  world  the  Greeks  alone,  and  in  succeeding 
generations  those  who  have  caught  their  secret,  have  been 
able  to  give  to  works  of  art  this  power  of  sustaining  an 
independent  spiritual  existence.  As  with  the  grown  man 
father  and  mother  are  lost  sight  of,  so  with  these  works  of 
art,  the  artist  is  forgotten  in  his  creation.  With  Shak- 
speare's,  Dante's,  and  Leonardo's  figures,  as  well  as 
those  achieved  in  the  youth  of  Raphael  and  Michael 
Angelo,  the  question  of  who  was  their  creator  always 
forces  itself  upon  us  as  of  the  higher  importance.  It 
is  Dante,  Shakspeare,  Leonardo,  the  young  Raphael,  and 
Michael  Angelo  themselves  whom  we  see  in  their  works. 
They  are  their  children,  but  children  not  of  age ;  and 
the  father  still  holds  the  first  place,  without  whom  we 
should  only  partly  understand  his  creations.  But  the 
characters  of  Homer,  Sophocles,  and  ^Eschylus  live  their 
individual  life :  the  father  disappears  by  the  side  of  his 
works. 

And  so,  likewise,  Goethe's  works  written  before  the 
Roman  period  are  only  dissevered  parts  of  a  personality 
as  dear  to  us  as  the  works  themselves ;  and  only  what  he 
wrote  after  his  Italian  journey  no  longer  require  Goethe's 
person,  but  are  perfect  creations,  with  their  own  aim  and 
action.  This  is  the  reason  why  the  works  of  the  young 
Goethe  fall  into  the  background  in  comparison  with 


HOW   THE    GREEK   AETISTS    CREATED.          425 

the  Goethe  who,  in  Rome,  had  learned  from  the  Greeks 
the  secret  of  "  style." 

Moreover,  the  Greek  artists  created  not  only  a  natural 
but  an  ideal  humanity,  whose  physical  form  never  quite 
corresponded  to  Nature's,  but  who  seemed  like  a  distinct 
people  of  bronze  or  marble  with  forms  of  their  own.  The 
body,  as  the  Greek  artist  newly  created  it,  was  simpler  than 
the  natural  body  ;  only  the  noblest  lines  and  curves  were 
brought  into  play,  blending  in  artistic  harmony  such  as 
Nature  never  produced.  The  physician  or  the  natural 
philosopher  sees  in  the  human  body  a  complex  combina- 
tion of  matter  and  motion,  never  wholly  fathomed.  He 
makes  no  distinction  between  inward  and  outward ;  and 
the  more  acutely  he  observes,  the  more  new  and  unex- 
pected intricacies  are  discernible.  But  the  Greek  artist 
will  only  represent  what  appears  to  the  practised  eye  of 
his  people  as  the  most  desirable  in  outward  form,  and 
moulds  his  figures  as  all  men  and  women  would  best  like 
to  be  formed.  And  while  generations  of  artists,  with 
this  aim,  made  the  taste  of  the  public  and  the  means  to 
gratify  it  ever  anew  their  study,  they  at  last  succeeded 
in  personifying  the  most  ideal  beauty  in  so  lifelike  a  man- 
ner that  it  seemed  as  though  Nature  herself  had  pro- 
duced it.  The  Greek  artist  grew  up  among  traditions 
which  took  away  his  freedom.  This  marble  people  seemed 
to  perpetuate  themselves  from  generation  to  generation. 
The  Zeus  of  Phidias,  even  though  Phidias  alone  could 
create  it,  was  to  all  Greeks  the  very  image  of  the  god, —  as 
if  Zeus  had  been  present  in  the  marble,  and  Phidias  had 
only  received  the  injunction  from  the  people  to  chisel  and 
polish  the  block  of  stone  until  at  last  the  necessary  form 
arose  out  of  it. 

And  now,  this  people  of  statues  is  not  dumb.  They 
still  speak  ;  and  their  language  is  that  of  Greek  poetry. 


426  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF   GOETHE. 

The  verse  of  these  Greek  poets  is  suited  to  these  mar- 
ble lips. 

Only  those  figures  in  a  poem  really  speak  whose  words 
move  in  the  simplest  cadence,  but  which  yet  are  as  far 
beyond  the  accidental  emphasis  of  common  talk  as  the 
marbles  are  superior  to  the  forms  of  real  life.  Poetical 
language  gives  to  words  a  clear,  sharply-defined  value, 
but  lends  to  them  at  the  same  time  the  melody  which  in- 
spires the  highest  thoughts  humanity  is  capable  of  utter- 
ing. It  apparently  limits  language,  confines  it  within 
rules,  and  excludes  certain  words  in  which  the  ideal  ac- 
cent is  wanting.  Only  the  Greeks  have  known  how  to 
lend  to  their  whole  language  this  tone  and  cadence  in 
such  *a  measure  as  to  make  it  a  system.  Other  nations 
have  only  attained  to  single  sounds,  and  to  words  of  a  po- 
etical language.  In  presence  of  the  works  of  the  Greek 
artists  in  Italy,  Goethe's  "Iphigenia"  received  this  form 
and  language,  and  he  subsequently  also  rewrote  "  Tasso  " 
and  "  Egmont."  Every  trace  of  subjective  relation  to  the 
author  must  be  erased.  Iphigenia  and  Orestes  have  no 
longer  anything  to  do  with  Frau  von  Stein  and  Goethe. 
No  personal  experience,  by  whose  shock  they  had  been 
called  into  being,  clings  now  to  the  characters.  They 
are  of  age,  and  no  longer  subject  to  the  power  of  him 
who  formed  them,  and  who,  before  he  gave  them  their 
highest  finish  in  Rome,  could  guide  them  here  and  there 
at  will. 

But  one  incongruity  even  Goethe  could  not  remove. 
These  characters  in  their  original  conception  had  been 
different  from  what  they  finally  became.  In  the  earlier 
plot  the  subjective  origin  was  not  to  be  denied  ;  and  even 
in  the  "  Roman  Elegies  "  there  was  a  certain  last  appear- 
ance of  all  too  near  connection  with  Goethe's  person,  since 
he  introduces  himself  as  the  hero  of  the  adventures  re- 


HIS    ADMIKATION    OF    CLASSIC    MODELS.        427 

counted.  In  order  to  realize  how  perfectly  Goethe  under- 
stood how  to  write  after  classic  models,  we  must  recall  a 
number  of  poems  in  which  the  contents  and  form  are 
still  more  striking,  —  "  The  Bride  of  Corinth,"  "  God  and 
the  Bajadere,"  "  The  New  Pausias,"  and  "  The  Flower 
Maiden ;  "  but,  above  all,  "  Alexis  and  Dora."  These 
poems  (I  mention  only  the  most  distinguished)  are  in  the 
true  sense  of  the  word  masterpieces  ;  by  which  is  meant, 
the  works  of  a  poet  who  has  attained  the  mastery  of  his 
art.  Unlike  his  earlier  characters,  —  who  were  distant, 
heavenly  connections  of  the  poet  through  a  traceable  pedi- 
gree, —  we  may  say  without  exaggeration  of  these  figures 
who  meet  us  unexpectedly  as  in  a  beatific  vision,  that 
they  are  a  combination  of  Greek  sculpture,  Raphaelistic 
drawing,  and  Titian's  coloring.  These  comparisons  are 
forced  upon  us,  because  such  an  immense  access  of  power 
in  plastic  drawing  and  coloring  is  here  noticeable  in 
Goethe.  He  knows  exactly  what  effects  he  wishes  to 
produce,  and  with  what  means  they  are  to  be  attained ; 
and,  finally,  how  to  lend  to  the  work  a  kind  of  finish 
which  destroys  every  trace  of  the  labor  he  has  bestowed 
on  it.  "  Alexi^  and  Dora  "  is  unsurpassed,  —  not  as  if  it 
were  a  translation  from  the  Greek,  but  as  if  an  old  Greek 
had  known  how  to  write  German.  Goethe  had  so  thor- 
oughly identified  himself  with  the  antique  world,  as  if  it 
were  indeed  a  real  living  world,  that  he  added  a  song  to 
the  Iliad  at  this  time,  —  which  it  would  seem  he  was 
quite  justified  in  doing  by  the  new  theory  that  the  Iliad 
is  composed  of  songs  only  accidentally  welded  together. 
Goethe's  "  Achilleis  "  is  scarcely  known,  and  is  usually 
looked  upon  as  a  failure.  I  do  not  agree  with  this  opinion, 
I  consider  this  poem  deserving  of  equal  rank  with  his  most 
successful  ones  :  unfortunately,  it  was  left  unfinished. 
Nevertheless,  this  manner  of  working  might  have  been 


428  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

regarded  as  an  indication  of  a  decline  of  power,  if  Goethe 
had  not  united  all  the  advantages  of  this  new  method  in 
perfection  in  one  noble  work,  which  in  an  artistic  sense 
appears  the  most  beautiful  and  faultless,  and  in  a  human 
sense  the  truest,  of  all  his  productions,  —  "  Hermann  and 
Dorothea." 

The  triumph  of  a  work  of  art,  as  we  have  seen,  from 
an  aesthetic  point  of  view,  is  so  to  affect  the  imagination, 
that  before  the  work  itself  the  creator  is  forgotten,  and 
that  only  after  a  while,  and  as  if  recovering  from  an  en- 
chantment, we  say  to  ourselves  that  the  picture  or  the 
poem  owes  its  existence  to  some  hand  without  which  it 
could  never  have  been.  This  triumph  was  Goethe's  in 
"  Hermann  and  Dorothea."  He  seems  to  have  discov- 
ered, in  the  form  he  gave  to  this  poem,  the  innate  rhythm 
of  the  German  language ;  and  in  the  subject  he  glorifies 
the  source  of  all  German  strength  and  excellence,  —  a 
healthy,  temperate,  domestic  life.  If  the  "  Roman  Ele- 
gies "  sprung  from  the  joy  felt  by  a  soul,  long  wandering 
in  solitude,  which  has  attained  the  possession  of  a  be- 
loved one,  we  have  here  the  picture  of  quiet  home  life, 
which,  as  an  outgrowth  from  the  former,  is  painted  in  the 
most  charming  manner  imaginable. 

I  will  first  speak  of  its  form. 

Klopstock  was  the  creator  of  modern  German  prosody. 
Attempts  had  been  made  before  him,  which  proved  to 
be  only  attempts.  Klopstock  wrote  the  first  real  German 
odes  ;  he  constructed  true  German  hexameters,  and,  so  to 
say,  drilled  our  language  in  the  classic  measures  by  imita- 
tion of  classic  syntax,  and  by  creating  new  combinations 
of  words. 

Klopstock  would  have  done  more  if  he  had  written 
less.  He  gained  such  facility  in  moving  to  antique  meas- 
ures that  his  art  overstrained  the  natural  capacities  of 


MODERN    GERMAN   PROSODY.  429 

the  language.  What  he  wrote  was  no  longer  German, 
hut  Klopstockian  ;  and  though  the  public  found  for  a  long 
time  great  pleasure  in  his  verses,  yet  what  was  a  mere 
fashion  could  have  but  a  limited  duration. 

Ewald  von  Kleist  (the  elder  Kleist,  who  fell  in  the 
Seven  Years'  War)  made  use  of  hexameters  and  fancy 
meters  after  the  antique  in  a  more  discreet  and  there- 
fore, to-day,  more  readable  way.  I  mention  Kleist 
among  many  who  might  be  here  named  (for  instance, 
Ramler,  with  whose  odes  Berlin  resounded  in  the  time 
of  Frederick  the  Great),  because  he  brings  us  directly  to 
the  man  to  whom  we  are  indebted  for  the  foundation  of 
German  hexameters,  —  to  Voss.  Kleist  possessed  some- 
thing which  is  here  of  great  importance,  and  which  we 
Took  for  in  vain  in  Klopstock  ;  lie  did  little  to  change 
the  language  in  which  he  wrote,  but  sought,  so  far  as 
possible,  to  conform  to  its  phraseology.  Instead  of  forc- 
ing it,  he  coaxed  it ;  instead  of  inventing  new  words,  he 
adapted  the  existing  material,  while  carefully  avoiding 
the  appearance  of  oddity.  He  expressly  desired  that 
his  hexameters  and  other  classic  metres  should  be  read 
as  if  they  were  simple  prose. 

Voss  went  further  in  this  direction,  and  became  the  dis- 
coverer of  the  proper  epic  German.  It  must  not  be  for- 
gotten that,  later,  he  tried  to  change  his  happily  invented 
language  into  an  artificial  idiom,  by  which  he  forfeited 
the  advantages  it  had  possessed  at  first,  and  made  his  last 
works  almost  unintelligible.  While  Klopstock's  most 
artificial  productions  offer  difficulties  which  can  be  over- 
come, Voss's  writings  are  stupid,  rigid,  wooden,  or  what- 
ever adjectives  one  may  choose  to  describe  an  insipid 
formalism. 

But  we  here  discuss  Voss  as  the  interpreter  of  Homer's 
poems  to  the  Germans. 


430  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

Homer's  hexameter  was  the  product  of  a  dialect, — 
the  Ionic.  Never  coulfl  such  a  tender  measure  be  formed 
from  the  Attic,  which  was  the  language  of  the  philosopher 
and  of  the  statesman.  The  Attic  narrator  is,  par  excel- 
lence, Plato.  He  brings  into  play  all  the  resources  which 
the  syntax  of  the  language  affords  when  he  has  anything 
to  communicate,  and  thus  produces  a  prose  of  the  noblest 
kind,  where  every  sentence  has  its  own  rhythmus. 

It  seems  to  me  that  Plato  has  made  the  grandest  pos- 
sible use  of  human  language,  —  a  harmony  of  dependent 
sentences,  rising  gradually  to  the  highest  climax  of 
power,  as  for  instance  in  his  "  Banquet,"  such  as  has 
never  since  even  been  attempted.  All  modern  prose  is, 
so  far  as  concerns  the  appropriateness  of  the  language 
to  the  matter,  mere  child's  play  compared  with  Plato's 
writings.  Plato's  periods  require  the  utmost  attention. 
One  could  drink  in  Homer's  verse  half  asleep  as  com- 
pared with  the  strain  this  prose  demands.  The  epic 
requires  simplicity,  with  a  tendency  even  to  garrulous- 
ness,  while  the  euphony  of  the  words  neutralizes  the  te- 
diousness  of  the  construction.  The  Ionic  dialect  was  the 
language  for  the  pleasurable  recital  of  long-spun  tales  of 
adventure.  It  compares  with  the  Attic  as  the  soft  gut- 
tural Sicilian  with  the  keen  staccato  of  the  Tuscan,  only 
that  the  Ionic  has  been  elevated  to  the  rank  of  a  written 
language,  which  has  never  happened  to  the  Sicilian. 
Homer  was  food  for  every  one.  The  roughest  palate  and 
the  most  refined  taste  alike  enjoyed  him.  The  melodious 
movement  of  his  verse  lulled  the  one  into  sweet  dreams, 
while  it  incited  the  other  to  a  study  of  its  subtleties. 
The  nouns  move  slowly  along  in  company  with  euphoni- 
ous, oft-repeated,  almost  meaningless  adjectives ;  but 
these  adjectives,  if  one  considers  them  closely,  are  as 
indispensable  as  the  trains  of  princely  garments  which 


BEAUTY    OF    THE    IONIC    DIALECT.  431 

please  the  eye  by  their  splendid  though  superfluous  folds. 
The  predominance  of  agreeable  sounds  in  the  very  words 
themselves,  which  seem  to  strike  the  minor  key,  give  to 
the  narration  a  strong  hold  on  the  senses.  We  go  on 
slowly  as  over  a  wide  meadow  strewn  with  flowers  :  it  is 
always  the  same  grass,  indeed,  which  impedes  our  way, 
but  it  breathes  a  freshness  over  all,  giving  the  feeling  of 
easy,  elastic  progress,  offering  welcome  delays,  and  turn- 
ing the  journey  into  a  ramble,  while  the  similarity  of  the 
flowers  themselves  is  lost  in  their  at  first  unnoticed  but 
infinite  diversity.  Who  has  not  picked  the  anemones 
growing  in  endless  profusion,  in  the  spring,  upon  the 
meadow  plains  surrounding  the  Roman  Villas  ?  At  first 
one  looks  so  much  like  another,  it  seems  scarcely  worth 
the  trouble  to  pick  more.  By  degrees,  however,  we  notice 
each  has  a  form  and  color  of  its  own,  and  then  we  are 
never  tired  of  gathering  them.  So  with  Homer's  repeti- 
tion of  simple  words,  each  of  which,  in  its  special  place 
takes  new  form  and  tone. 

The  German  language  has  a  dialect  which  has  much 
affinity  with  the  Ionic,  —  the  Platt  Deutsch  or  Low  Ger- 
man, which  is  spoken  on  the  northern  plains  and  along 
the  northern  coast.  A  crude  but  tender  cadence,  a  rest 
of  the  voice  upon  broken  vowels,  with  a  capacity  to  be 
broad  without  being  insipid,  distinguish  it.  The  Low 
Germans  have  had  no  Homer  or  Herodotus,  and  must 
allow  this  to  be  said.  Perhaps,  had  they  had  ancestors 
of  such  power,  Yoss  would  have  translated  his  Homer 
at  once  into  Platt  Deutsch.  He,  a  Low  German  himself, 
struck  the  tone  which  rendered  the  Ionic  of  Homer  in 
Hoch  Deutsch.  He  knew  how  to  give  to  his  hexameters 
the  tranquil  flow  which  is  indispensable  to  this  measure. 
Voss,  after  having  through  his  Homer  opened  the  path  to 
German  prosody,  ventured  to  attempt  poems  of  his  own. 


432  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

He  wrote  the  epic  of  "  Luise,"  the  story  of  a  clergyman's 
daughter,  who  is  married  to  a  young  "  brother-in-office  " 
of  her  father,  which  doubtless  furnished  the  original  for 
Goethe's  "  Hermann  and  Dorothea."  Goethe  frankly 
confessed  the  imitation,  and  the  troop  of  his  adversaries 
even  accused  him  of  having  meant  to  compete  with  Voss. 

Goethe  compete  ! 

Old  Gleim,  living  in  Halberstad,  and  no  longer  able  to 
do  anything  else  to  help  his  friends  but  to  fall  into  impo- 
tent rage  whenever  he  thought  them  attacked  (who  in 
secret  dubbed  him  a  vain  old  fool),  writes  to  Voss  about 
"  Hermann  and  Dorothea,"  that  he  had  glanced  over 
Goethe's  "  six-footers,"  for  to  read  such  stuff  was  simply 
impossible,  and  must  call  this  "Hermann  and  Dorothea" 
a  "  sin  against  his  holy  Voss."  "  I  will  never  be  per- 
suaded," he  continues,  "  that  it  is  anything  but  a  godless 
satire.  The  fellow  would  cast  derision  on  Voss's  '  Luise.' 
Robespierre  committed  no  greater  piece  of  rascality! 
Here  [in  Halberstad,  he  means]  all  good  souls  are  of  my 
opinion."  This  was,  of  course,  an  extravaganza  on  the 
part  of  the  good  Canonicus,  but,  on  the  whole,  it  was  the 
opinion  that  Goethe  had  only  written  hexameters  such  as 
had  been  the  fashion  twenty  years  ago  ;  and  even  to-day, 
when  Goethe's  poem  meets  with  unexceptional  admira- 
tion, the  hexameters  are  not  suffered  to  pass  wholly  with- 
out blame. 

I,  on  the  other  hand,  take  the  liberty  of  asserting  that 
the  hexameter  made  by  Voss  a  German  metre  was  fully 
endowed  with  life  only  by  Goethe.  It  is  true  that  his 
first  attempts,  made  in  1780,  are  hard  to  read.  But  in 
Italy  the  knowledge  dawned  upon  him  of  the  cadence  of 
the  elegiac,  as  well  as  the  epic,  hexameter.  What  had 
earlier  been  to  him  but  the  studied  imitation  of  a  dance 
motion  became  now  his  natural  gait.  He  subjected 


CRITICISM  OF  GOETHE'S  HEXAMETERS.     433 

Voss's  style  to  the  right  kind  of  drill,  stripped  the  Ger- 
man hexameter  of  its  academic  stiffness,  and  suited  it  to 
the  lips  of  the  people.  Goethe  proceeded  in  this  with  the 
greatest  caution  and  the  finest  instinct  for  the  language. 
He  recognized  the  failure  in  Klopstock's  method,  had 
seen  his  school  come  into  fashion  and  disappear  again, 
but  detected  with  equal  clearness  Voss's  dangerous  ten- 
dency to  a  home-spun  familiarity  ;  the  question,  therefore, 
for  Goethe  became  how  to  write  a  Hoch-Deutsch  hexameter 
which  sounded  natural,  was  free  from  foreign  accent,  and 
which  adapted  itself  readily  to  the  genius  of  the  language. 
In  this  he  succeeded.  Goethe's  hexameters  excited  the 
derision  of  the  writers  who  had  been  captivated  by  Voss. 
One  should  read  on  this  subject  the  exhaustive  criticisms 
in  the  Jena  literary  paper  for  the  year  1807.  Certainly 
it  is  Goethe  who  has  furnished  the  model  verse  which  we 
needed,  by  his  untiring  polishing  and  correcting  ;  by  tak- 
ing advice  of  others  to  whom  he  attributed  a  fine  ear ;  by 
his  hesitating  choice  of  what  seems  to  him  best,  with  con- 
stant regard  to  the  sound  of  the  language  when  spoken. 

It  is  well  to  consider  that  there  is  no  correct  versifica- 
tion in  itself,  any  more  than  there  is  a  correct  language 
in  itself.  There  are  only  verses  which  great  poets  have 
made,  and  a  language  which  they  have  used.  There  have 
been  very  many  attempts  to  outdo  Goethe's  hexameters 
and  pentameters  through  so-called  more  correct  ones. 
Platen,  for  example,  has  written,  taken  for  all  in  all,  a  few 
hundred  verses  of  this  kind,  which  correspond  in  their 
construction  to  certain  elegancies  found  in  Greek  hexam- 
eters. Platen's  hexameters  are  excellent ;  but  Goethe's 
are  by  no  means  inferior,  though  he  did  not  take  into 
consideration  all  the  literary  notions  which  influenced 
Platen.  On  the  contrary,  Goethe's  so-called  "  incorrect " 
verses  are  the  indispensable  concessions  which  have  given 

28 


434  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

us  freedom.  Our  ear  to-day  asks  nothing  beyond  what 
Goethe  has  furnished  us,  and  it  is  the  same  with  our 
rhymes.  Goethe  writes  :  — 

"  Allein  und  abgetrennt  von  aller  Freude 
Seh  ich  aus  Firmament  nach  jener  Seite." 

He  is  upbraided  for  trying  to  rhyme  "  Freude  "  with 
"  Seite."  I  should  like  to  ask  where  the  men  are  to  be 
found  who  have  the  right  to  decide  whether  Goethe  may 
be  allowed  to  rhyme  "  Freude  "  and  "  Seite  "  ?  Our  whole 
German  theory  of  versification  at  present  groans  under 
the  pedantic  pressure  of  unjustifiable  restraints,  owing  to 
an  unnecessary  regard  paid  to  certain  peculiarities  in  the 
older  languages,  which  it  is  quite  superfluous  to  consider 
in  our  speech  of  to-day.  These  purists  lay  the  founda- 
tion, not  of  an  improvement,  but  of  an  injury,  when, 
without  taking  counsel  of  the  genius  of  the  language, 
they  would  compel  the  external  use  of  the  Greek  and 
Salic  rules  of  prosody.  How  dull  and  labored  sounds 
Wolf's  model  piece  of  German  translation  from  Homer ! 
how  almost  unintelligible  the  translations  from  Greek 
and  Latin  poets,  in  which  attempts  are  made  to  repro- 
duce all  their  prosodiac  subtleties  to  such  a  degree  that 
those  unacquainted  with  the  originals  often  cannot  guess 
at  the  meaning  of  the  German  rendering.  The  discredit 
into  which  the  pursuit  of  classic  tongues  has  fallen  in 
later  times  may  possibly  be  ascribed,  in  a  mild  way,  to 
these  unintelligible  productions.  The  insipidity  of  such 
artificial  work  is  too  plain.  A  language  has  a  very  tender 
growth.  We  must  allow  its  tendrils  to  entwine  where 
they  will,  and  with  practised  eye  observe  where  the  rich- 
ness of  the  sap  causes  them  to  spring  forth.  It  is  almost 
inconceivable  to  us,  the  groping,  hesitating  way  in  which 
Goethe  worked,  who  pondered  long  years  by  himself,  and 
consulted  with  others  how  to  select  one  word,  or  how  to 


"HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA."  435 

form  one  cadence.  I  see  a  time  coming  when  this  care 
will  be  made  the  subject  of  minute  study,  the  immense 
value  of  which  to  science  it  will  be  high  treason  to  doubt. 
Goethe's  hexameters,  where  they  seem  faulty  in  "  Her- 
mann and  Dorothea,"  need  only  the  accentuation  of  the 
right  word  in  reading  aloud,  to  resolve  them  into  harmony. 
They  are  written  for  the  ear,  and  not  for  the  eye. 

Concerning  the  subject  of  the  poem,  I  remark,  that 
Voss's  "  Luise  "  is,  in  its  way,  a  great  production.  We 
recognize  here,  most  plainly,  the  influence  of  classic 
models.  It  is  a  complete  and  finished  picture  which  needs 
no  accessories  to  make  it  understood  and  enjoyed.  It  has 
the  peculiarity  of  a  genuine  classic  work  of  art ;  of  be- 
ing, indeed,  finished,  using  the  word  in  its  two  senses. 
Goethe  enjoyed  reading  the  poem  aloud,  and  showed  him- 
self touched  by  its  beauty.  The  charms  of  Schleswig- 
Holstein  scenery  have  been  immortalized  by  Voss.  Klaus 
Groth,  in  later  times,  has  added  what  was  left  unsaid  by 
him.  Voss  had,  with  marvellous  truth,  taken  in  with  his 
eye  the  coloring  of  Nature,  and  learned  from  Homer  to 
translate  landscape  into  words.  But,  compared  with  Goe- 
the's poem,  Voss's  is  a  pigmy.  Who  but  Goethe  could 
have  given,  as  a  background  to  such  peaceful  scenes,  the 
hideous  chaos  of  the  Revolution,  which  at  that  time  con- 
vulsed the  world  ? 

Goethe  had  borne  the  material  for  this  poem  in  his 
mind  long  years  before  the  French  Revolution  was 
thought  of.  He  hesitated  about  the  form  he  should  give 
to  it.  We  see  how  both  the  form  and  the  historical  back- 
ground, without  which  we  can  scarcely  imagine  the  poem, 
occurred  to  him  only  at  the  last  moment ;  perhaps,  indeed, 
they  were  the  final  stimulant.  Goethe  finished  the  work 
in  1796  with  the  greatest  rapidity :  the  correspondence 
with  Schiller  gives  the  dates  of  it  exactly ;  afterward 


436  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF   GOETHE. 

began  the  painful  criticism  which  postponed  the  declara- 
tion that  the  poem  was  of  age,  ready  to  take  its  chance 
with  the  public. 

Goethe  in  his  old  age  said  to  Eckermann  that  "  Her- 
mann and  Dorothea "  was  the  only  one  of  his  poems 
which  it  still  gave  him  pleasure  to  read.  Dorothea,  so 
far  as  my  experience  goes,  stands  more  firmly  on  the  soil 
of  her  native  land  than  any  other  creation  in  German 
poetry.  She  has  only  one  sister,  of  whom  she  reminds 
me,  and  who  yet  is  one  of  the  few  characters  in  fiction 
which  may  not  have  been  known  to  Goethe, —  Gudrtin, 
the  heroine  of  the  poem  which,  justly  by  the  side  of 
the  Nibelungen,  is  valued  as  the  German  Odyssey.  We 
find  the  same  union  of  deep  feeling  with  a  certain  re- 
serve, the  quiet,  firmly-rooted  convictions  of  duty,  the 
almost  philosophical  moderation  in  joy  as  well  as  grief. 
It  is  one  of  the  charms  of  Goethe's  poem  that  the  moral 
conflicts  grow  out  of  the  contrast  between  German  char- 
acter and  the  peculiar  circumstances  thrust  upon  our 
country  by  our  nearest  neighbors.  Through  these  Doro- 
thea receives  a  special  mission.  She  is  the  interpreter  of 
the  highest  thoughts  which  animated  the  minds  of  men 
at  that  time,  though  herself  all  unconscious  of  it.  She 
is  the  representative  of  those  healthy  sentiments  which 
are  not  shown  by  clinging  to  what  is  obsolete,  but  in  co- 
operating to  sustain  what  is  good,  and  which  lead  us  to 
seek  repose  of  mind  in  that  natural  activity  which  is  the 
prize  of  life.  With  what  a  firm  step  she  moves  along ! 
There  is  a  certain  homely  heroism  in  her  conduct. 
Goethe's  other  characters,  compared  with  Dorothea,  have 
something  ethereal  in  them,  something  not  of  flesh  and 
blood,  as  if  with  one  last  fold  of  their  garments  they 
still  clung  to  the  clouds  whence  they  descended.  One 
would  scarcely  notice  this  if  Dorothea  were  not  there  in 


"WILHELM    MEISTEK."  437 

contrast ;  and  yet  her  form  is  the  one  which,  more  than 
all  others,  in  the  true  sense  was  born  solely  of  Goethe's 
imagination.  The  mother,  in  her  relation  to  Hermann, 
suggests  an  approach  to  Goethe's  mother.  Yet  such 
comparisons  are  futile,  because  the  characters  do  not 
need  them.  To  one  thing  I  would  call  attention.  While 
Goethe  contrasted  the  well-established,  undisturbed  fam- 
ily life  in  the  heart  of  Germany  with  that  on  the  shores 
of  the  Rhine,  —  already  disordered  by  the  neighborhood 
of  France,  —  he  did  not  anticipate  that  the  storm  would 
ten  years  later  sweep  over  the  whole  of  Germany.  The 
poem,  as  an  historical  monument,  immortalizes  the  pe- 
riod between  the  beginning  of  the  French  Revolution  and 
the  wars  of  Napoleon,  which  for  us  was  a  comparatively 
peaceful  time,  marked  by  intellectual  excitements  and 
hopeful  expectations  which  gave  the  tone  in  which  Schil- 
ler's principal  works  were  both  written  and  received. 

The  unfavorable  criticism  with  which,  to  a  certain 
extent,  "  Hermann  and  Dorothea  "  was  assailed  had  its 
rise  in  the  "  Xenien."  To  a  man  *who  had  attempted 
such  an  outrage  must  be  shown,  even  if  it  were  Goethe, 
that  people  knew  how  to  be  angry.  But  all  this  went  for 
nought ;  for  in  May,  1798,  Cotta  wrote  to  Schiller  about 
the  "  immense  circulation  "  of  the  work. 

I  would  say  nothing  here  of  "  Wilhelrn  Meister,"  were 
it  not  necessary  to  mention  Schiller's  influence  upon  it. 
The  work  was  completed  before  Goethe's  acquaintance 
with  Schiller,  who  nevertheless,  through  his  sympathy 
with  it,  urged  Goethe  to  go  to  work  upon  it  again  vigor- 
ously, in  order  that  the  book  might  appear  in  print  as  a 
well-rounded-out  and  perfect  whole.  Schiller  had  under- 
taken to  vindicate  the  work  in  this  form.  Above  all,  he 
quieted  Goethe  himself  by  some  letters  which  are  a  mas- 
terpiece of  criticism ;  and  then  in  wider  circles  he  created 


438  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

an  excitement  in  favor  of  it,  which  if  Goethe's  romance 
had  stood  alone,  without  his  support,  it  would  never  have 
produced. 

"  Wilhelm  Meister  "  shows  at  their  best  all  the  peculi- 
arities of  Goethe's  style.  As  a  mountain  at  different 
heights  may  shelter  the  flora  of  different  zones,  so  we 
here  find  specimens  of  Goethe's  style  in  all  its  epochs. 
The  narration  opens  in  the  very  graphic  Frankfort  dic- 
tion, moves  on  through  the  prose  of  the  Ten  Years,  and 
winds  up  with  a  conclusion  dashed  off  in  a  sketchy,  hur- 
ried manner,  which  in  language  and  composition  lacks 
careful  drawing  and  coloring,  and  gives  only  rough  out- 
lines. The  romance  begins  with  a  firmly-woven  plot,  to 
be  unravelled  in  time,  but  soon  grows  more  disconnected, 
drops  one  thread  after  another,  taking  in  new  ones  instead, 
and  finally  ends  with  a  few  hurried  and  almost  enigmat- 
ical narrations.  According  to  the  idea  which  Goethe 
formed  as  the  work  went  on,  that  he  wished  to  exhibit  life 
as  it  is,  the  romance  ought  never  to  have  been  finished, 
but  like  a  memoir  should  have  broken  off  suddenly  at  some 
one  point.  We  lay  aside  the  book  with  a  feeling  of  disap- 
pointment, because  Goethe  has  added  a  sequel  in  which 
a  kind  of  revelation  of  the  fate  of  the  different  persons  is 
given,  and  an  attempt  made  to  establish  a  certain  con- 
gruity  in  their  relations  one  to  the  other.  This  was  not 
demanded. 

"  Wilhelm  Meister's  "  Lehrjahre  is  the  home  of  Phi- 
lina  and  Mignon,  the  two  most  original  and  lovely  ema- 
nations of  Goethe's  genius.  Neither  of  Mignon  nor  of 
Philiua  do  we  know,  as  I  have  said,  whence  they  sprung. 
From  different  quarters  conjectures  have  been  made, 
which  however  are  of  no  use  to  us,  since  all  we  know  of 
the  persons  referred  to  is  their  names.  Never  was  there 
such  a  realistic  representation  of  a  coquettish,  versatile, 


PHILINA   AND    MIGNON.  439 

irresistible  soubrette  as  Philina,  and  never  such  a  picture 
as  in  Mignon  of  a  Southern  child,  dreamy,  passionate, 
and  crushed  by  fate,  as  is  here  painted  with  a  pathos 
and  beauty  which  insure  it  a  place  forever  in  the  palace 
of  memory. 

A  child  drawn  to  her  protector  by  a  strange  and  irre- 
sistible attraction,  Mignon  feels  all  at  once  that  she  is  no 
longer  a  child.  With  childlike  confidence  she  steals  to  his 
side  at  night ;  like  a  dog  she  crouches  at  the  feet  of  her 
master,  presses  herself  unrecognized  to  his  heart,  and 
while  she  abandons  herself  to  her  suddenly-awakened 
passion,  her  being  is  consecrated  to  destruction.  Hence- 
forth she  must  consume  herself,  and  her  death  is  de- 
scribed with  the  most  affecting  truth  and  reality.  After 
Marianna,  who  in  the  novelistic  beginning  had  been  the 
heroine,  is  left  in  the  background,  Mignon  appears  as  the 
one  for  whose  sake  the  whole  fiction  was  written.  Goethe 
says  this  himself,  and  reproached  Madame  de  Stael  for 
her  criticism  of  "  Wilhelm  Meister,"  in  which  she  spoke 
of  the  story  of  Mignon  as  only  an  episode,  while  in  truth 
the  other  characters  only  revolve  about  her.  What  other, 
indeed,  could  have  so  moved  Goethe  that  once,  while  pur- 
suing his  way  alone  from  Erfurt  to  Gotha,  lost  in  thoughts 
of  the  romance,  he  burst  into  tears  ?  It  was  in  the  early 
days,  and  he  wrote  Frau  von  Stein  of  this.  Mignon's 
fate,  like  a  thin  cobweb  spun  from  flower  to  flower,  de- 
stroyed by  one  breath  of  passion,  must  have  been  present 
to  his  soul. 

Goethe,  through  association  with  Schiller,  to  whom  he 
gave  the  manuscript  of  "  Wilhelm  Meister,"  was  tempted, 
unfortunately,  to  mar  this  finest  effect  of  his  romance  in 
declaring  Philina,  contrary  to  the  clear  development  of 
the  plot,  to  have  been  the  one  who  ventured  to  go  to  the 
hero  at  night,  and  thus  to  destroy  at  the  same  time  Phi- 


440  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

lina's  individuality.  It  is  the  peculiarity  of  her  relation 
to  Wilhelm,  that,  in  spite  of  her  wanton  freedom,  and  the 
manifest  opportunities  she  gives  him  to  take  liberties 
with  her,  he  remains  cold  to  her.  She  is  herself  cold 
by  nature,  and  all  her  amorousness  is  only  superficial. 
Through  her  consciousness  of  the  utter  lack  of  senti- 
ment in  her  nature  she  is  careless  to  excess  in  all  moral 
matters,  but  incapable  of  passion. 

"  Wilhelm  Meister,"  besides  an  enchanting  variety  of 
scenes,  offers  an  amount  of  worldly  wisdom  which  seems 
absolutely  inexhaustible.  With  each  repeated  reading 
we  find  new  traits  which  betray  the  keenest  observation. 
Goethe  gives  us  a  kind  of  ironical  foreknowledge  regard- 
ing every  new  adventure  of  Wilhelm's, —  that  he  will 
come  out  of  it  without  true  satisfaction,  but  yet  with  a 
whole  skin.  Human  life  appears  as  an  eternal  succession 
of  feasts  at  which  either  the  appetite  or  the  guests  are 
wanting,  alternating  With  times  when  having  the  best 
appetite  one  must  satisfy  it  with  a  crust  of  dry  bread. 
Not  long  after  the  appearance  of  "  Wilhelm  Meister," 
a  couple  of  young  writers  produced  a  criticism  on  it  in 
a  romance  entitled  "  Charles'  Efforts  and  Hindrances,"  a 
silly  man  who  presents  a  comical  figure,  being  eternally 
led  about  by  the  nose,  as  it  would  seem,  by  fate.  But 
just  this  shows  the  deep  meaning  in  Goethe's  fiction,  that 
"•  Wilhelm  Meister  "  never  appears  ridiculous  to  us.  In 
the  same  way  Le  Sage,  in  "  Gil  Bias  of  Santillana,"  leads 
his  hero  through  innumerable,  almost  fruitless,  advent- 
ures without  making  him  ridiculous,  even  when  he  cuts 
the  sorriest  figure  ;  for  every  reader  says  to  himself,  "  It 
might  have  gone  no  better  with  me." 

Goethe's  romance  is  valuable  also  in  the  history  of 
literature.  It  contains  important  information  regarding 
Shakspeare's  reception  in  Germany.  The  interpretation 


END    OF   THE    SCHILLER-GOETHE    PERIOD.     441 

of  Hamlet's  character  in  it  is  celebrated  and  familiar 
to  all. 

The  work  has  only  one  disadvantage :  things  are 
called  and  represented  as  they  are,  free  from  varnish 
of  any  kind,  which  led  Schiller  to  foresee  that  such  a  per- 
siflage on  human  nature  could  not  be  forgiven.  Just 
because  we  know  that  man  is  so.  it  should  not  be  said. 
Schiller  estimated  the  world  rightly.  When  Goethe's 
immorality  is  spoken  of,  special  reference  to  "  Wilhelm 
Meister  "  is  intended. 

We  have  now  named  and  discussed  the  chief  works 
belonging  to  the  period  of -Goethe's  co-labor  with  Schil- 
ler. If  we  compare  them  with  the  works  of  Schiller 
which  at  this  time  excited  the  enthusiasm  of  the  German 
people,  they  are  like  a  performance  by  a  quartette  of 
stringed  instruments  next  door  to  the  stormy  orchestral 
music  and  loud  voices  ringing  out  from  a  great  theatre, 
which  can  only  be  heard  when  some  accident  necessitates 
a  pause.  Goethe  wrote  for  himself.  The  sudden  sym- 
pathy which  took  the  place  of  the  former  coldness  of  the 
public  was  Schiller's  work.  Scarcely  was  Schiller  dead, 
however,  when  the  old  conditions  reappeared.  Again 
arose  the  voices  of  those  who  praised  Goethe  as  a  great 
man,  but  as  one  who  had  now  done  enough  ;  and  again 
was  Goethe  just  as  indifferent  to  the  cry  as  before.  The 
pursuit  of  science  seemed  to  him  of  more  importance  than 
the  fate  of  his  poetical  works  ;  and  therefore  this  must  be 
spoken  of  now  as  his  chief  interest. 


442  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 


LECTURE  XXIII. 

STUDY    OP    NATURAL    SCIENCE.  —  "THE    NATURAL     DAUGH- 
TER." —  "  ELECTIVE  AFFINITIES." 

A  FTER  Schiller's  death,  the  natural  means  for  Goethe 
•**•  to  regain  composure  was  through  work.  A  glori- 
ous task  seemed  to  offer  itself,  —  the  finishing  of  "Deme- 
trius," Schiller's  last  drama,  which  was  left  lying  on  his 
table  uncompleted. 

Only  Goethe  could  have  finished  the  work  in  Schiller's 
spirit,  —  he  who  knew  all  the  secrets  and  plans  of  the  de- 
parted one.  Indeed,  at  first  he  thought  so  himself, — 
considered  himself  called,  and  in  duty  bound,  to  do  it. 
The  public  performance  of  the  piece  should  be  an  impos- 
ing memorial  service  in  honor  of  the  dead.  But  in  spite 
of  the  best  intentions,  Goethe  felt  himself  unable  to  fulfil 
the  task.  He  did  not  even  make  the  attempt  to  finish  the 
piece.  The  only  thing  which  Goethe  wrote  at  that  time  in 
memory  of  Schiller  was  the  epilogue  to  the  "  Song  of  the 
Bell,"  in  which  affecting  elegy  these  words  are  found  : 

"  Behind  him,  like  a  misty  phantom,  lay 
The  vulgar  all  that  fills  our  earthly  day. 

This  was  written  when,  in  memory  of  Schiller,  the 
"  Song  of  the  Bell "  was  prepared  for  stage  representa- 
tion. Why  was  Goethe  powerless  before  the  "  Deme- 
trius "  ?  Why  sinks  into  the  same  grave  with  Schiller  all 
that  during  their  mutual  labor  seemed  to  have  so  abso- 


GOETHE  AFTER  SCHILLER'S  DEATH.     443 

lutely  engrossed  him  ?  Goethe,  in  order  to  recover  from 
the  irreparable  loss,  takes  refuge  in  his  official  labors  ;  or 
if  he  turns  to  literary  work,  chooses  what  least  reminds 
him  of  Schiller.  He  reverts  to  Winckelmann's  Letters. 
Schiller  was,  as  it  were,  effaced.  Goethe's  art  studies 
were  what  Schiller  was  least  able  to  participate  in,  for 
want  of  previous  training ;  he  took  a  lively  interest  in 
them,  but  stood  related  to  them  as  an  outsider,  who  in  all 
haste  seeks  to  learn  as  much  as  possible  without  making 
any  pretension  to  an  opinion  of  his  own.  On  these  Goethe 
now  seemed  to  wish  to  concentrate  his  best  powers.  Al- 
ready during  Schiller's  last  years  he  had  begun  to  do 
so.  The  political  condition  of  Europe  made  the  history 
of  art  a  more  and  more  conspicuous  subject  of  public  in- 
terest. The  immense  spoils  of  Bonaparte's  Italian  cam- 
paigns, which  filled  the  Louvre  in  Paris,  offered  a  col- 
lection of  works  of  art  such  as  had  never  before  been 
gathered  in  any  one  place  in  the  modern  world.. 

This,  as  has  been  already  remarked,  happened  while 
Schiller  was  yet  living  ;  the  principal  reason,  however,  why 
Goethe  after  Schiller's  death  fell  into  such  marked  poetical 
inactivity  was,  that  the  reaction  after  his  overstrained 
labor  in  this  direction  —  symptoms  of  which  had  appeared 
during  Schiller's  life  —  now  completely  mastered  him. 
The  two  great  events  which  distinguished  the  close  of  the 
eighteenth  century  also  produced  a  direct  effect  on  him, 
—  the  end  of  the  French  Revolution  in  Imperialism  under 
Napoleon  ;  and  the  overthrow  of  the  German  Empire,  to- 
gether with  the  Prussian  Monarchy,  by  the  decisive  vic- 
tories of  the  French,  one  of  which  was  gained  in  the  very 
neighborhood  of  Weimar.  The  times  of  moderate  free- 
dom which  Schiller,  in  spite  of  the  excesses  of  the  French 
Revolution,  hoped  for  till  his  last  moment,  had  become  to 
all  nations  only  a  dream.  A  frightful  disenchantment 


444  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

united  with  terror,  in  presence  of  the  monstrous,  growing 
power  of  the  one  man  who  held  everything  in  his  hand, 
benumbed  all  other  feelings.  Goethe,  standing  on  the 
threshold  of  old  age,  must  have  realized  that  constella- 
tions had  begun  to  rule,  in  earthly  as  well  as  in  spiritual 
spheres,  for  which  the  life  he  had  hitherto  pursued  in  no 
wise  prepared  him.  He  recognized  that  an  important 
epoch  was  ended,  and,  withdrawing  into  himself,  waited 
for  the  new  world  to  be  evolved  out  of  this  chaos. 

And  now  we  notice  a  peculiar  development  of  his  poetic 
ability.  He  begins,  as  it  were,  entirely  anew.  A  romance 
grows  in  his  imagination  in  the  same  way  as  "  Werther  " 
had  arisen,  —  out  of  a  mere  inward  impulse,  as  it  would 
seem,  simply  to  gratify  his  own  heart,  and  without  any 
thought  of  the  public  who  might  have  a  share  in  it ;  just 
as  "  Werther  "  was  written  for  the  few  people  who  were 
in  the  secret. 

But  yet.this  new  work  is  in  quite  a  different  spirit  from 
"Werther;"  notwithstanding  the  passion  in  it,  the  ex- 
citing personal  element  is  wanting,  which  until  now  had 
been  the  distinguishing  feature  in  Goethe's  works,  —  his 
very  last,  "  The  Natural  Daughter"  excepted,  in  which 
this  new  spirit  is  likewise  to  be  observed.  We  must  not 
by  any  means  attribute  this  to  Goethe's  having  grown 
old,  for  he  cannot  be  called  an  old  man  who  was  able  to 
describe  the  passionate  conflicts  in  "  Elective  Affinities." 
His  changed  manner  of  writing  is  to  be  ascribed  to  other 
causes. 

To  one  of  these  we  have  already  referred,  and  it  must 
now  be  treated  of  in  full,  —  the  influence  of  Goethe's  scien- 
tific studies  on  his  writings  and  on  his  view  of  the  world. 
Only  now  does  the  effect  of  these  studies  become  obvious, 
although  Goethe  ever  since  his  entrance  into  Weimar 
had  devoted  himself  to  natural  science,  especially  after 


SCIENTIFIC    STUDIES    AND    DISCOVERIES.       445 

his  return  from  Italy,  when  he  was  so  deeply  engrossed 
in  it  that  Schiller  was  forced  to  wrest  him  from  its  sway. 
For  even  what  he  produced  freshly  after  the  Italian  epoch 
in  the  way  of  poetical  works  was,  for  the  most  part,  only 
giving  shape  to  conceptions  which  had  long  been  hidden 
in  his  mind.  "  Hermann  and  Dorothea,"  "  God  and  the 
Bajadere,"  "  The  Bride  of  Corinth,"  the  "Achilleis,"  had 
lain  dormant  in  his  imagination  for  years ;  but  "  The 
Natural  Daughter"  and  "Elective  Affinities"  are  en- 
tirely new,  even  in  conception,  and  the  date  on  the  title- 
page  points  at  the  same  time  to  the  new  century  as  the 
period  of  their  birth. 

Goethe,  in  many  places  in  his  works,  has  given  a  de- 
tailed account  of  his  growing  interest  in  the  natural 
sciences.  We  can  follow  him  step  by  step.  An  aptitude 
for  these  studies  was  born  in  him.  We  know  how  he  list- 
ened in  Leipsic  to  lectures  on  medicine  and  physics,  and 
devoted  himself  as  much  to  them  in  Strasburg  as  if  they 
were  his  natural  department ;  but  all  this  and  other  oc- 
casional efforts  in  the  Frankfort  epoch  must  be  regarded 
as  only  preliminary  steps,  amounting  to  little,  for  accord- 
ing to  his  own  confession  he  knew  nothing  of  natural 
science  when  he  went  to  Weimar.  His  vocation  there 
first  opened  the  way  to  it.  The  care  of  the  public  forests 
led  him  to  the  study  of  botany ;  the  superintendence  of 
the  collections  in  the  University  of  Jena,  to  anatomy ; 
the  mining  in  Ilmenau,  to  geology ;  and  his  art  studies, 
to  physics.  In  each  of  -these  departments  Goethe  sought 
at  first  only  to  acquaint  himself  with  the  already  known 
facts,  but  soon  hastened  on  to  pursue  his  own  self-directed 
investigations  ;  and  ends  with  discoveries,  the  importance 
of  which  are  only  just  beginning  to  be  duly  recognized. 

Nothing  can  be  more  modest  and  graceful  than  Goethe's 
circumstantial  description  of  the  quite  extraordinary  way 


446  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

in  which  he  partly  forced  himself,  and  in  part  was  enticed, 
into  the  various  departments  of  Natural  Science.  To  a 
beginner  of  the  ordinary  cast  the  elements  of  all  knowl- 
edge come  as  a  well-regulated  inheritance,  which  he  has 
only  to  accept  at  a  time  when  the  human  mind  is  best 
qualified  for  the  mere  reception  of  ideas.  Goethe  came 
to  these  studies  as  a  full-grown  man,  in  whom  every  new 
thing  he  sees  awakens  individual  thoughts,  and  is  led  on 
as  it  were  indirectly  and  impulsively  to  his  investigations. 
In  pursuing  his  botanical  studies  he  hunts  np  in  the 
woods  the  forester,  the  herb-seeker,  the  essence-maker, 
and  in  obscure  places  the  possessors  of  herbariums  ;  read- 
ing at  the  same  time  an  enormous  amount  concerning 
these  subjects  which  he  finds  in  the  Weimar  Library, 
making  observations  in  his  own  garden,  and  soon  propos- 
ing contradictory  hypotheses  to  all  found  in  the  books, 
which  he  eagerly  but  quietly  follows  up.  But  only  inci- 
dentally is  time  allowed  him  for  this  work.  In  imagina- 
tion he  forms  the  typical  plant  —  the  "  Urpflanze,"  —  out 
of  which  all  other  plants  must  be  developed  according 
to  natural  law,  and  to  which  all  can  be  traced  back. 
From  time  to  time  he  is  surprised  by  the  continuance  of 
dreams  filled  with  this  creation  of  his  imagination ;  by 
degrees  everything  beside  vanishes,  and  he  lives  in  these 
thoughts  as  if  his  life  had  only  this  one  interest.  It  is 
years,  however,  before  he  has  advanced  far  enough  to  make 
his  theories  publicly  known  ;  and  when  he  finally  resolves' 
to  do  so  the  professionals  reject  them  with  a  shrug  of  the 
shoulders  and  a  compassionate  smile.  But  he  waits  for  the 
applause  of  quite  another  public.  With  Christiane,  after 
the  Italian  journey,  he  pursues  these  studies  ;  for  her  he 
transforms  his  botanical  theories  into  a  poem,  the  chief 
contents  of  which  are  not  indeed  scientific,  but  bear  refer- 
ence to  his  secret  happy  intercourse  with  the  beloved  one. 


HIS    OKIGINAL    IDEAS    AND    METHODS.          447 

Professional  people  of  the  present  day  assert  that 
Goethe's  ideas  contain  the  fundamental  views  on  which 
modern  botany  rests. 

Goethe's  anatomical  studies  took  a  similar  course. 
Here  obtained  in  science,  as  then  understood,  an  outward 
method  of  comparison  to  which  Goethe  opposed  the  high 
ideal  unity  which  he  had  wrought  out  in  his  imagination. 
In  botany  a  number  of  families  were  assumed  in  which 
all  plants  were  included, — the  criterion  by  which  to  dis- 
tinguish them  being  the  blossom.  The  difference  in  the 
families  was  supposed  to  have  been  pre-determined  from 
the  beginning,  and  to  be  in  accordance  with  the  plan  of 
creation.  Goethe's  clearer  insight  was  opposed  to  both 
premises. 

He  would  not  merely  compare  a  plant  bearing  a  certain 
kind  of  blossom  with  other  plants  of  the  same  phase  of  de- 
velopment :  he  would  not  have  any  comparison  instituted 
between  individual  plants,  but  would  simply  follow  the 
successive  phenomena  of  development  from  the  very  first 
moment.  He  takes  up  a  plant  as  if  there  were  only  this 
one  in  the  world,  and  tries  to  understand  all  the  stages  of 
its  development.  He  examines  the  seeds,  watches  their 
germination,  their  growth,  the  influence  of  the  soil,  sun, 
light,  and  darkness,  the  richness  or  poverty  of  its  leaves 
and  blossoms,  and  the  mounting  of  the  sap.  He  exam- 
ines into  every  detail  of  their  individual  relations,  and 
seeks  the  laws  according  to  which  this  incessant  series 
of  changes  take  place  which  are  presented  to  his  eye.  He 
has  no  definite  aim  in  view  in  making  his  researches  that 
he  should  proceed  like  a  police  detective  ;  but  he  follows 
with  impartial  eye  all  the  different  manifestations  of  life, 
and  nothing  escapes  his  loving  look.  By  degrees,  after 
he  has  gone  from  plant  to  plant,  he  thinks  he  discovers 
similarity  of  development,  and  ventures  to  assume  the 


448  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

existence  of  laws.  These  laws  lead  him  finally  to  his 
ideal  formula  for  the  constitution  of  all  plants.  His  dis- 
covery is  that  the  single  parts  of  the  plant  —  leaves,  blos- 
soms, stems,  etc.  —  follow  a  common  law  of  formation, 
and  are  only  different  manifestations  of  the  same  original 
type;  so  that  Goethe's  ideal  typical  plant,  "  Urpflanzr." 
is  in  leaves,  blossoms,  stems,  and  root  only  an  agglomer- 
ation of  intrinsically  the  same  parts  which,  under  various 
influences,  have  taken  various  forms. 

Goethe  now  tries  to  prove  the  existence  of  the  same 
principle  in  the  animal  kingdom. 

But  we  must  not  lose  ourselves  in  specialties  to  follow 
Goethe's  osteological  discoveries.  Enough  that  here, 
also,  he  did  not  succeed  in  the  beginning  in  establishing 
his  principle  so  as  to  convince  others,  but  his  discover- 
ies, after  having  suffered  from  the  disapprobation  of  the 
learned  for  decades,  to-day  are  not  only  recognized  as 
well  founded,  but  as  actually  offering  the  basis  for  modern 
science.  I  refer  you  to  the  judgment  of  professional  men 
on  this  subject.  With  the  clear-sightedness  of  genius 
which  made  the  poet,  who  pursued  the  subject  only  in 
his  leisure  hours,  raise  himself  above  the  drudgery  of  all 
scientific  investigation  to  grapple  at  once  with  the  highest 
problems,  he  discerned  the  principles  whose  latest  fruit 
is  Darwin's  wonderful  theory,  based  on  a  grand  idea, 
but  radically  false  in  its  deductions.  Goethe  would  have 
taken  good  care  to  avoid  drawing  the  inferences  of  the 
Darwin  school  from  the  insight  which  he  gained  into 
the  workings  of  Nature,  yet  would,  perhaps,  nevertheless 
have  hailed  with  the  deepest  satisfaction  the  'world-thrill- 
ing effect  of  conclusions  to  which  his  solitary  and  much- 
scoffed-at  discoveries  had  helped  to  open  the  way. 

We  find  Goethe  occasionally  giving  vent  to  his  joy  at 
his  successes  as  poet  and  author.  But  the  expression  of 


HIS  "THEORY  OF  COLORS."  449 

this  feeling  never  rises  above  quiet  content.  He  feels  a 
cheerful  complacency  in  what  he  had  accomplished ;  but 
he  is  never  filled  with  such  absolute  rapture  as  when,  in 
the  character  of  naturalist,  he  is  able  to  impart  to  his 
friends  a  fresh  discovery.  Then  his  enthusiasm  is  pas- 
sionate,—  a  joy  thrills  him  which  penetrates  to  his  very 
marrow  ;  he  forgets  everything  else  in  such  moments. 
It  seems  to  us,  on  looking  back  to-day,  that  when  the  im- 
mense consequences  involved  in  his  new  ideas  flashed  on 
him,  he  must  have  been  penetrated  with  such  overwhelm- 
ing astonishment  and  awe  as  to  be  almost  beside  himself. 

Concerning  his  geological  studies,  we  will  only  remark 
that  Agassiz  ascribes  to  Goethe  the  first  suggestion  of  the 
theory  of  the  prevalence  of  an  ice  period  on  the  earth, 
which  is  to-day  of  such  momentous  value, 
i  It  remains  for  us  to  speak  of  Goethe's  most  important 
scientific  work,  —  the  "  Theory  of  Colors." 

The  disapprobation  which  all  his  scientific  views  at 
first  encountered  still  continues  on  this  subject,  while 
in  other  departments  opposition  has  yielded  to  the  full 
sunshine  of  recognition.  Goethe's  "Theory  of  Colors" 
is  not  sustained  by  any  competent  authority.  He  starts 
with  the  same  principle  which  he  has  everywhere  else 
asserted.  He  will  go  back  to  the  simple  elements.  He 
denies  the  diversity  of  colors,  which  he  must  regard  as 
only  intermediate  steps  between  light  and  dark.  It  is 
not  our  task  to  decide  this  question  ;  and  I  limit  myself, 
as  unprofessional,  to  the  following  observations,  which 
scarcely  touch  the  matter  itself. 

Considered  as  a  book,  as  a  product  of  words  and 
thoughts,  Goethe's  "  Theory  of  Colors"  is  truly  enchant- 
ing. What  it  contains  in  historical  material  alone  is  suf- 
ficient to  warrant  what  I  have  said  of  it.  According  to 
Goethe's  principle,  that  in  order  to  present  a  science  one 

29 


450  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETIIE. 

must  give  the  history  of  this  science,  he  has  —  while  dis- 
cussing what  the  learned  as  well  as  amateurs  have  said 
about  colors  in  different  ages  —  produced  a  book  which 
no  one  can  ever  tire  of  reading  who  has  once  become 
acquainted  with  it. 

Taking  a  survey  of  Goethe's  scientific  activity,  and  in 
view  of  his  leading  idea  that  creative  Nature  must  be 
traced  back  to  first  principles,  we  perceive  the  relation  of 
this  idea  to  the  fundamental  principle  of  Greek  art,  which 
is  to  restore  to  the  human  body,  and  to  human  language, 
its  simpler  but  more  comprehensive  forms.  The  task  of 
the  artist  is  not  slavishly  to  copy  accidental  peculiarities 
which  may  distinguish  individuals,  but  to  invent  simple 
forms  under  which  all  differences  may  be  harmonized. 
We  perceive  Goethe's  enthusiasm  for  Greek  art  to  be  in- 
timately associated  with  his  views  of  Nature  ;  but  we  can- 
not here  enlarge  upon  this.  We  have  to  discuss  more 
important  points,  which  make  Goethe's  method  of  observ- 
ing Nature  not  only  valuable  to  his  own  generation,  but 
to  the  present  as  well. 

Goethe's  great  idea  is  the  limiting  of  all  knowledge  of 
Nature  to  the  province  of  the  "  accessible."  —  the  "  Zu- 
ganglichen,"  as  he  expresses  it. 

We  have  seen  what  made  Spinoza's  philosophy  so  dear 
to  him.  It  was  not  that  he  specially  reverenced  Spinoza's 
system,  —  Goethe  even  occasionally  confessed  that  he  did 
not  know  much  about  it ;  but  it  was  because  he  saw  in  his 
works  a  connected  mass  of  observations  about  human  na- 
ture, in  which  only  those  things  were  brought  under  the 
severest  scrutiny  which  could  be  comprehended  by  the 
observing,  investigating,  analyzing  human  intellect.  No 
other  philosophy  had  offered  Goethe  this.  All  had  sought 
to  formulate  the  incomprehensible  as  well. 

Goethe  insists  that  this  same  distinction  shall  be  held 


THE  ACCESSIBLE  AND  THE  INACCESSIBLE.      451 

clear  in  the  study  of  Nature.  From  the  outset  the  "in- 
accessible "  is  recognized  not  only  as  the  other  but  as  the 
larger  half  of  natural  phenomena.  The  "  inaccessible," 
which  he  also  calls  the  "  great  mystery,"  reigns  to  such 
an  extent  that  its  inherent  nature  extends  even  to  the 
"  accessible  ;  "  so  that  he  designates  the  "  accessible  " 
and  the  "  inaccessible  "  together  as  the  "  great  mystery." 
Again  and  again  he  declares  that  it  is  impossible  for  the 
individual  to  comprehend  it,  and  denies  to  himself  and 
others  the  right  out  of  the  known  to  construct  the  un- 
known. He  looks  upon  himself,  as  it  were,  as  a  mariner 
who  had  sailed  round  a  portion  of  the  world  in  his  ship, 
here  and  there  making  a  landing,  but  who  would  not  ven- 
ture to  draw  general  conclusions  as  to  what  might  be 
contained  in  the  heart  of  the  country  from  what  he  had 
seen  from  the  shore. 

But  while  Goethe  refuses  to  the  understanding  to  take 
more  for  granted  than  can  be  grasped  within  the  five 
fingers,  he  gives  to  the  imagination  of  the  poet  all  the 
more  freely  the  right  to  create,  with  unconscious,  dreamy 
power,  images  of  what  the  mind  wishes  to  perceive  ;  only 
he  preserves  with  great  clearness  the  limits  of  the  opera- 
tion of  both.  Long  since,  in  Goethe's  youth,  the  great 
Laplace-Kantian  fantasy  as  to  the  origin  and  future  de- 
struction of  this  earth  had  gained  ground.  Out  of  the 
rotating  nebulae  (children  learn  this  at  school  now-a-days) 
is  formed  the  central  gas-drop,  which  afterwards  becomes 
the  earth,  and  which  as  a  congealing  ball  passes  through 
all  its  phases,  including  the  episode  of  its  tenantry  by  the 
human  race,  until  finally,  as  burned-out  slag,  it  falls  back 
into  the  sun,  —  a  long,  but  to  most  people  perfectly  con- 
ceivable, process,  for  whose  accomplishment  no  other 
agency  is  needed  than  some  outside  power  to  sustain  an 
equal  degree  of  heat  in  the  sun. 


452  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

No  more  hopeless  perspective  for  the  future  can  be 
thought  of  than  this  which  is  forced  upon  us  to-day  as  a 
scientific  necessity.  A  carcase  which  even  a  hungry  dog 
would  hesitate  to  approach  is  a  refreshingly  appetizing 
morsel  compared  with  this  last  excrement  of  creation  as 
which  our  earth  is  to  be  restored  to  the  sun  ;  and  the 
scientific  eagerness  with  which  this  generation  accepts  and 
believes  such  views  is  the  sign  of  a  morbid  imagination, 
which  learned  men  of  the  future  will  exert  much  ingenu- 
ity in  explaining  as  a  historical  phenomenon. 

Goethe  never  harbored  any  such  dreary  views.  To 
fathom  the  indefinite  past  was  to  him  a  delight ;  but 
to  grasp  the  indefinite  future,  except  poetically,  he  was 
never  tempted. 

While  in  "  Faust,"  where  his  imagination  held  sway, 
he  did  not  hesitate  to  bring  the  distant  heavenly  spaces 
within  the  miserable  limits  of  a  theatre  stage,  as  a  man 
of  science  he  did  not  even  speculate  on  these  subjects. 
It  would  have  been  contrary  to  his  idea  of  freedom  to  try 
to  dogmatize  to-day  on  what  will  be  in  the  future.  Only 
vague  anticipations  are  permissible  here.  Nature  is  to 
him  ever  wholly  renewed,  ever  in  her  virgin  state,  whose 
future  must  remain  veiled.  What  she  does  not  herself 
impart  cannot  be  won  by  force.  All  the  names  and  num- 
bers we  may  give  are  only  labelled  phenomena,  which  any 
drop  of  rain  may  efface. 

Hence  Goethe's  unconcern  at  the  incompleteness  of  his 
observations.  He  verifies  the  everlasting  changeableness 
of  things  ;  he  observes  endless  transitions  from  one  con- 
dition to  another  :  where  then,  he  asks,  is  the  moment  in 
which  an  isolated  particle  of  Nature,  in  the  process  of  its 
development,  may  be  considered  as  representing  all  the 
rest  ?  The  pregnant  moment  of  a  plant  perhaps  begins 


THE   VITAL   UNITY   OF   NATURE.  453 

at  a  time  when  no  human  eye  observes  it.  Goethe  be- 
lieves nothing  but  what  he  has  seen,  nor  accepts  the  ob- 
servations of  others  until  he  has  repeated  them  himself. 
His  greatest  enjoyment  is  in  telling  of  what  he  has  himself 
discovered.  He  looks  upon  himself  as  a  traveller  upon  an 
exploring  expedition,  for  whom  every  object  has  value  and 
importance,  and  does  not  neglect  to  make  a  note  of  them 
even  though  the  provisions  give  out  and  his  people  rebel. 
Right  and  left  he  stoops  to  pick  up  whatever  attracts 
his  eye,  though  another  path  may  offer  other  objects. 
Goethe  is  the  genuine  dilettante.  He  never  hopes  in 
approaching  Nature  to  overhear  so  many  of  her  secrets  as 
to  be  able  to  guess  all  the  rest.  He  catches  single  sounds 
of  an  unknown  language  which  strike  on  his  ear,  by  means 
of  which  here  and  there  a  very  simple  sentence  becomes 
clear  to  him.  Goethe  was  persuaded  that  all  phenomena 
stand  in  mutual  relation,  and  therefore  nothing  can  be 
demonstrated  by  the  study  of  isolated  parts,  however  dex- 
terous the  treatment  of  them  may  be.  This  is  the  mean- 
ing of  his  axiom  that  Nature  has  neither  kernel  nor  shell, 
neither  an  inward  nor  an  outward,  neither  an  essential 
nor  a  non-essential ;  but  that  each  part  must  be  looked 
upon  as  equally  important  to  every  other  part. 

Hence  he  turned  with  delight  to  the  manifestations  of 
Nature  only  when  he  was  in  the  best  mood  for  it.  In- 
deed, he  looks  upon  his  own  personality  and  its  relation 
to  outward  things  as  so  necessary  an  ingredient  in  his 
scientific  labors  that  he  will  not  separate  these  learned 
investigations  from  his  every-day  existence ;  he  considers 
them  as  symptoms  of  his  whole  conduct  of  life,  and  of 
equal  importance  with  everything  else.  Hence  the  stress 
he  laid  on  his  personal  condition  when  pursuing  his  sci- 
entific studies.  This  manner  of  working  seemed  at  last 
so  momentous  to  him,  that  he  regarded  a  scientific  discov- 


454  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

ery  as  imperfectly  communicated  if  he  did  not  know  the 
personal  history  of  the  discoverer.  Hence,  also,  in  his 
last  days,  when  he  turned  his  attention  to  meteorology  and 
cloud  formations,  his  singularly  beautiful  friendship  for 
Howard,  the  English  investigator,  who  was  the  first  to 
furnish  any  definite  conclusions  on  these  subjects.  He 
would  not  acknowledge  the  value  of  Howard's  results 
until  he  had  found  out  the  relation  of  the  man  to  his  sub- 
ject, had  asked  this  question  by  letter,  and  received  the 
most  explicit  and  beautiful  statements  with  regard  to  it. 
He  afterwards  published  all  this  in  translation  as  a  bio- 
graphical memorial  in  honor  of  this  simple  man. 

With  what  eminent  propriety  this  way  of  considering 
things  may  be  designated  as  antique  appears  when  we 
glance  at  the  relation  of  man  to  Nature  as  it  had  been 
for  centuries,  and  of  the  entire  change  it  has  undergone 
during  the  course  of  the  last  hundred  years. 

The  Mosaic  history  of  creation  ends  with  man,  who 
enters  upon  the  stage  endowed  with  the  capacity  to  make 
useful  to  himself  all  that  had  been  created  before  him. 
The  Greek  myths  also  introduce  their  gods  and  Titans 
as  in  a  human  sense  terrestrial  phenomena,  so  that  they 
may  be  regarded  as  direct  precursors  of  the  human  race. 
Even  Aristotle  himself  could  not  imagine  the  world  with- 
out making  the  Greeks  the  favored  people,  forming  its 
centre ;  and  Christianity  elevates  men  to  be  the  end  and 
aim  of  creation  in  such  a  sense  that  without  them  the 
world  would  be  meaningless. 

Natural  science  rose  to  protest  against  these  views. 
Astronomy  opened  the  fight  by  proving  the  earth — which 
had  been  supposed  to  be  the  centre  of  the  solar  system 
—  to  be  only  a  subordinate  planet,  whose  sovereign  inhab- 
itants on  this  discovery  must  be  satisfied  to  take  a  lower 
rank.  Step  by  step,  this  theory  by  which  the  earth  suf- 


THE  EARTH'S  ORIGIN  AND  DESTINY.      455 

fered  degradation  was  followed  out.  It  was  proved  that 
the  earth  had  existed  and  passed  through  enormous 
periods  of  time  before  man  was  created.  Forces  were 
discovered  whose  effects  are  not  known,  much  less  di- 
rected, by  the  mind  of  man ;  and  instead  of  the  former 
godlike  beings,  standing  in  a  comfortable  proximity,  man 
recognized  mysterious  forces  operating  from  monstrous 
distances. 

Nor  to  these  forces  did  man  feel  hhnself  in  the  same 
relation  as  formerly  to  the  Deity.  The  kingdoms  of 
plants,  minerals,  and  animals  now  share  with  man  the 
mastery  of  the  earth's  surface  :  no  more  thought  of  sub- 
mission as  if  their  highest  purpose  was  to  be  service- 
able to  mankind,  but  according  to  unknown  constitutions 
they  exist  for  themselves,  speak  a  language  unintelligible 
tyo  man,  and  know  nothing  of  him ;  while  man  himself, 
no  longer  knowing  where  he  belongs,  accepts  gratefully 
the  fact  that  in  the  vast  animal  kingdom  a  doubtful  space 
has  been  allotted  him,  where  he  modestly  sits  meditating 
with  shame  on  his  nearest  of  kin  in  the  animal  world, 
and  is  allowed  laboriously  to  evolve  from  his  feeble  mind 
the  conviction  that  there  is  no  authoritative  proof  either 
of  his  own  soul  or^of  God  as  its  creator  and  final  refuge. 
This  is  the  mental  state  of  mankind,  who  have  to-day 
such  doubtful  possession  of  this  earth,  which  is  at  some 
future  time  to  be  converted  into  slag. 

It  was  this  view  of  things  which,  becoming  universal 
in  the  second  half  of  the  last  century,  prepared  the  decline 
of  the  supremacy  of  the  Romanic  world.  It  was  the  sud- 
den springing  up  of  these  theories  which  caused  the 
unheard-of  intellectual  condition  whose  result  was  the 
French  Revolution.  A  dissolution  took  place  of  convic- 
tions which  had  till  then  been  universal,  and  upon  which 
for  thousands  of  years  the  structure  of  European  life  had 


456  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

rested.  Everything  was  doubted,  and  there  was  no  ques- 
tion which  Science  was  not  allowed  to  discuss,  while  the 
results  so  won  were  instantly  applied  to  practical  use. 
State  and  Church  had  long  been  sacrificed  in  thought 
before  the  tiniest  flame  had  been  kindled  in  the  great 
brand  of  the  French  Revolution.  Not  merely  free-think- 
ing citizens,  but  high  and  low,  held  the  new  opinions,  and 
neither  Catholic  nor  Protestant  clergy  offered  any  resist- 
ance. Christianity  and  reverence  for  the  antique  mingled 
peacefully,  for  all  eyes  were  dazzled  by  the  new  revelations 
from  the  realm  of  science  which  followed,  flash  upon 
flash.  At  the  ascent  of  the  first  balloon  a  feeling  actually 
possessed  men  that  they  were,  in  reality,  flying  into  in- 
finite space.  From  out  the  mouth  of  great  Mother  Na- 
ture men  expected  to  receive  the  laws  in  conformity  with 
which  the  new  generations  were  to  live. 

One  would  suppose  that  Goethe,  who  without  any 
teacher  had  been  dragged  by  his  own  experience  into  the 
midst  of  this  revolution  in  the  world  of  thought,  would 
have  bowed  a  willing  assent  to  these  new  views ;  but  pre- 
cisely here  Ave  see  arise  in  him  something  which  stands 
invincibly  opposed  to  the  despairing  logic  of  the  natural 
philosopher. 

In  Goethe's  early  years  the  disorganizing  ideas  on 
which  Voltaire  based  his  opinions,  and  which  Rousseau 
labored  to  oppose,  did  not  exist.  Of  his  Frankfort  writ- 
ings he  himself  spoke  later  as  mere  poetical  attempts. 
They  paint  only  the  inward  man,  and  betray  a  pretty 
good  understanding  of  the  emotions  of  the  soul.  "  Here 
and  there,"  he  continues,  "  we  catch  the  sound  of  passion- 
ate delight  in  rural  scenes  and  objects  of  Nature,  as  well 
as  an  earnest  longing  to  find  out  the  gigantic  secret  of 
the  unceasing  creation  and  destruction  going  on  day  by 
day  around  us."  This  impulse,  however,  at  that  time 


ANTICIPATION    OF   DARWIN.  457 

seemed  to  exhaust  itself  in  a  vague,  "  unsatisfactory  sort 
of  brooding." 

In  the  first  Weimar  days  his  old  view  of  the  world 
pervaded  all  he  wrote.  But  gradually,  and  quite  indepen- 
dent of  what  is  happening  around  him,  Goethe  changes 
his  standpoint. 

Indeed,  the  nearer  he  tries  to  come  to  the  great  Mys- 
tery, the  more  all  impetuous  feeling  is  restrained,  while 
the  study  of  what  we  may  call  the  intercourse  of  Nature 
with  herself  holds  a  prominent  place  in  his  new  way  of 
looking  at  things.  Under  Herder's  influence  his  view  of 
history  took  another  form.  History  became  to  Goethe  a 
series  of  natural  processes  connected  with  the  changes  of 
the  soil  itself  on  which  the  history  was  enacted.  Nations 
became  individuals  in  his  eyes,  to  observe  whose  move- 
ments formed  part  of  the  scientific  investigation  of  Na- 
ture. Just  so  the  life  of  the  individual,  the  threads  of 
man's  destiny,  became  woven  into  the  tissue  of  universal 
phenomena. 

But  it  was  chiefly  through  his  own  osteological  discov- 
eries that  Goethe's  views  of  the  world  gained  a  wholly 
new  foundation.  He  finds  that  the  material  distinction 
firmly  asserted  by  the^  learned  men  of  his  time  between 
the  skull  of  men  and  animals  does  not  exist.  Indeed,  they 
would  not  believe  that  the  intermaxillary  bone,  —  ren- 
dered through  him  so  famous,  —  which  divides  the  upper 
jaw  into  several  pieces,  is  peculiar  to  man  also,  because 
in  man  all  the  parts  have  so  entirely  grown  together  that 
in  general  the  separation  is  only  an  imaginary  one ;  for 
Goethe,  however,  the  separation  was  there  all  the  same, 
and  by  it  the  human  skeleton  proved  to  belong  to  the 
great  series  of  Mammalia.  In  Europe  he  was  literally  the 
first  to  foresee  the  positive  dethronement  of  the  race  which 
had  formerly  ruled. 


458  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

Struggle  as  lie  might  with  his  higher  consciousness 
against  carrying  these  intellectual  hypotheses  too  far,  the 
result  of  his  new  experiences  was  so  great  that  they  could 
not  fail  to  produce  a  transformation  in  him.  Goethe  abso- 
lutely abandons  his  earlier  standpoint.  He  recognizes 
mankind,  and  himself  of  course,  as  under  the  ban  of  a 
predestined  servitude,  which  made  the  freedom  that  until 
that  time  had  been  allowed  in  whole  departments  entirely 
out  of  the  question.  His  individual  experiences  and  un- 
interrupted, quiet  self-observation  confirmed  this  to  his 
own  mind,  even  when  he  could  not  bring  himself  to  ac- 
cept the  faith  of  others.  With  astonishment  he  had  long 
marked  within  himself  periodical  moral  alternations  lo&- 
tween  good  and  evil,  whose  rotation  he  was  anxious  to 
calculate.  Repeated  examples  teach  him  how  powerless 
free-will  seems  against "  the  influences  of  the  stars."  He 
discovers  constantly  new  chains  whose  ends  disappear 
in  mist,  but  whose  pressure  he  feels  only  too  palpably 
about  him.  Nothing  would  have  been  more  natural  than 
for  him  now  to  take  the  last  step ;  but  he  does  not  do  it. 
He  willingly  pursues  the  path  to  which  the  ever-increasing 
knowledge  of  physical  science  urges  him ;  but  he  allows 
himself  to  be  led  only  up  to  a  certain  point.  With  all  his 
scientific  subordination  to  the  laws  of  Nature,  Goethe's 
private  personal  bearing  is  remarkable. 

Goethe  never  descends  from  his  native,  aristocratic 
standpoint ;  but,  in  spite  of  all  which  science  might  seem 
to  prove  to  the  contrary,  regards  man  as  the  centre  of  cre- 
ation, for  whose  sake  everything  else  exists.  It  never  oc- 
curs to  him  that  he  must  first  prove  his  claim  to  this  proud 
position :  he  takes  it  as  his  right.  We  find  him  here  to 
be  in  flagrant  contradiction  to  the  fundamental  require- 
ments of  science,  which  demand  radical  and  exact  investi- 
gation of  things.  Chiefly  for  this  reason  may  we  call 


HIS    SUBJECTIVE   METHOD    OF    STUDY.         459 

Goethe  a  Greek,  who  could  not  surrender  his  inborn  feel- 
ing of  superiority  even  to  philosophy.  Under  no  circum- 
stances will  he  consent  to  be  a  slave.  Who  will  find 
fault  with  him  for  this  ?  Where  his  personal,  individual 
thought  was  not  in  place,  he  turned  silently  away. 

Goethe,  who  was  cramped  by  no  obligations,  made  the 
most  absolute  use  of  his  freedom.  He  labored  in  no  uni- 
versity where  he  would  have  had  to  consider  either  col- 
leagues or  pupils  ;  he  was  member  of  no  academy  which 
might  impose  upon  him  a  certain  social  reserve :  he  was 
perfectly  independent.  No  one  dared  question  him,  or 
turn  his  head  in  this  or  that  direction  so  that  he  was 
forced  to  see  what  lay  just  there.  In  the  possession  of 
five  healthy  senses  he  regarded  himself  as  the  centre  of 
all  phenomena,  and  asserted  that  what  was  discernible  to 
the  unassisted  human  eye  was  the  real  standard  for  every- 
thing. This  was  the  reason  why  he  found  no  pleasure  in 
astronomy,  for  which  he  needed  a  telescope,  or  in  micro- 
scopic investigations.  He  even  cherished  a  prejudice 
against  Newton  from  the  one  circumstance  that  he  oper- 
ated with  a  prism  instead  of  making  a  sufficient  instru- 
ment of  his  healthy  human  eye. 

It  would  by  no  means  do  to  recommend  Goethe's  meth- 
od as  worthy  of  imitation.  However,  since  such  was  his 
method,  and  since  his  example  stands  so  distinctly  before 
us,  and  since  as  a  learned  man  he  has  contributed  so 
much  that  is  valuable,  we  will  not  cavil  at  those  who  in 
like  manner  follow  the  bent  of  their  own  genius  from 
honoring  Goethe  as  the  patron  and  defender  of  this  man- 
ner of  pursuing  the  work.  Goethe  once  incidentally  de- 
clares science  and  art  to  be  identical,  and  thus  proclaims 
the  inspiration  of  the  favorable  moment  as  the  standard. 

It  is  something  refreshing  to  see  the  natural  way 
in  which,  at  a  time  when  everything  began  to  totter,  he 


460  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

made  firm  ground  under  his  own  feet  by  this  subjective 
treatment. 

He  had  learned  to  look  upon  the  development  of  man- 
kind as  only  a  part  of  the  economy  of  Nature,  and  the  fate 
of  the  individual  as  a  wave  in  the  great  stream  whose 
rising  and  sinking  was  governed  by  laws,  the  knowledge 
of  which  belongs  to  the  realm  of  the  "  inaccessible." 
Goethe  was  much  too  practical  to  make  the  limit  between 
freedom  and  necessity  an  arithmetical  problem.  He  per- 
mits the  foundation  of  things  to  rest  undisturbed  while  he 
examines  individual  cases :  he  feels  sure  that,  in  some 
way,  the  law  will  manifest  itself  ;  and  he  finally  discovers, 
starting  from  similitudes  in  Nature,  the  formula  which  is 
also  adapted  to  the  intellectual  life. 

This  is  contained  in  his  doctrine  of  Necessarianism. 

When  almost  the  last  of  his  old  friends,  Carl  August, 
had  died,  and  Goethe  must  greet  as  his  new  master  the 
son  whom  he  had  known  from  his  birth,  he  wrote  a  letter 
in  which  he  formally  proffered  to  him  his  homage.  This 
letter,  the  style  of  which  bears  every  mark  of  Goethe's 
"  orphic  period,"  as  Gervinus  calls  it,  is  written  witli  the 
ceremonious  elaboration  peculiar  to  old  age.  It  is  often 
to  be  observed  that  aged  men,  clinging  to  a  dear  inheri- 
tance which  they  hope  to  perpetuate,  adopt  a  curiously 
formal  manner,  because,  through  the  experience  of  a  long 
life,  they  are  convinced  of  the  importance  of  even  trivial 
actions,  and  therefore,  when  something  quite  above  the 
ordinary  routine  is  to  be  done,  feel  compelled  to  be  sol- 
emnly circumstantial.  So  it  seems  to  have  been  with 
Goethe  in  this  letter,  from  which  I  quote  the  following 
sentence  :  — 

"  The  rational  world  is  to  be  considered  as  a  great  immor- 
tal individual  who  steadily  works  out  the  Necessary,  and 
thereby  raises  himself  to  be  master  even  over  Chance." 


"THE  NATURAL  DAUGHTER."  461 

These  words  of  a  great  sage  are  here  given  as  the  final 
result  of  all  meditation. 

We  see  from  this  that  Goethe  had  arrived  at  a  theory 
which  brings  the  physical  and  moral  world  into  the 
closest  connection.  In  the  physical  world,  the  law  of  Ne- 
cessity means  that  creative  Nature  has,  so  to  say,  a  fixed 
budget  of  expenditure,  the  limits  of  which  she  never  over- 
steps ;  so  that  if  on  one  side  in  some  of  her  forms  there 
is  a  plus,  it  is  counterbalanced  in  others  by  a  minus. 
Goethe  proceeds  carefully  by  examples  to  illustrate  this 
idea.  In  the  moral  world,  on  the  other  hand,  the  law 
of  Necessity  means  the  sequence  of  certain  inevitable 
results  from  foregoing  actions  and  conditions,  not  nec- 
essarily in  a  previously  defined  form,  but  unalterable  in 
their  dynamic  manifestation.  And  here,  for  the  smallest 
human  action  the  same  law  serves  as  governs  the  deeds 
of  the  greatest  masses  :  everywhere  in  the  "  Economy  of 
Nature  "  proportionate  compensation  for  all  that  happens. 
One  might  call  this  view  of  things  a  doctrine  of  Fatalism 
drawn  from  the  past  instead  of  applied  to  the  future. 

As  I  have  said,  we  first  encounter  this  view  of  things 
in  "  The  Natural  Daughter." 

Goethe  here  lays  aside  any  intention  to  surprise  the 
public  and  to  make  his  poetical  creations  swim  about  like 
fishes,  gracefully  playing  "  hide  and  seek "  before  the 
eyes  of  spectators,  their  golden  scales  gleaming  brightest 
in  the  very  spot  where  one  would  least  expect  to  see 
them ;  he  does  not  even  give  to  his  figures  individual 
names,  but  only  class  names,  such  as  King,  Duke,  etc., 
while  as  half-free,  half-bound,  they  move  on  to  their  in- 
evitable fate,  representatives  of  partly  historical,  partly 
still  existing,  classes  of  society. 

Goethe  had  learned  from  the  Greeks,  that  in  order  to 
develop  a  real  tragedy  among  human  beings  it  was  neces- 


462  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

sary  to  represent  them  in  their  highest  moral  potency, 
and  then  to  urge  them  on  to  inevitable  conflicts  demand- 
ing the  exercise  of  their  whole  strength.  We  know 
what  simple,  grand  traits  distinguish  the  characters  of 
Antigone,  Iphigenia,  Creon,  and  the  rest ;  and  Goethe 
believes  modern  individualities  should  also  be  stripped 
of  all  that  is  petty  and  accidental,  and  represented  only 
in  their  supreme  moments  :  and  he  attempts  it.  In  Eu- 
genia, the  heroine  of  the  tragedy,  he  presents  a  maiden 
whose  fate  depends  upon  whether  she  is  to  pass  hence- 
forth for  the  distinguished  daughter  of  a  prince  or  for 
one  picked  up  by  chance,  a  waif,  from  the  great  mass  of 
humanity.  In  the  moment  of  trial  she  shows  she  is  noth- 
ing but  a  good-natured  young  maiden,  vain  and  inquisi- 
tive ;  and  her  lot  is  decided.  But  these  decisive  scenes 
in  the  story  develop  with  a  cojd  necessity,  as  if  one  had 
set  a  pendulum  in  motion  in  an  exhausted  receiver  to 
produce  the  most  exquisite  vibration  possible. 

It  almost  frightens  one  to  see  these  crystallized  figures 
appear  and  act,  —  their  lives  divorced  from  everything 
accidental,  while  only  the  free-will  of  the  individual  re- 
mains, as  one  might  say,  in  its  highest  chemical  purity, 
whose  deliberate  choice  brings  about  the  catastrophe. 

Goethe  never  finished  the  Trilogy  of  which  this  piece 
formed  a  part,  and  in  which,  as  he  said,  lie  hoped  to  sym- 
bolize the  frightful  events  of  the  French  Revolution.  He 
relinquished  the  attempt  because  he  found  the  public  had 
no  sort  of  comprehension  of  what  he  meant.  We  have 
only  schedules  of  this  sequel,  which  give  no  clear  idea  of  it; 
but  he  tried  to  illustrate  his  views  of  the  evolution  of  hu- 
man destiny  in  another  form  in  "  Elective  Affinities." 

As  he  had  undertaken  in  "  The  Natural  Daughter  "  to 
represent  the  French  Revolution,  so  in  "  Elective  Affini- 
ties "  his  broken  friendship  with  Frau  von  Stein  was,  at 


RECONCILIATION    WITH    FKAU   VON   STEIN.     463 

last,  to  receive  poetic  transfiguration.  It  had  lain  in 
his  breast  like  an  open  wound  which  required  healing,  and 
it  was  only  after  long  years  that  he  succeeded  in  finding 
the  right  means  for  this. 

We  must  not  give  an  external  interpretation  to  what  I 
have  said,  as  if  Goethe  strove  to  lay  a  poem,  like  a  plas- 
ter, over  the  wound,  in  order,  by  so  doing,  to  place  mat- 
ters on  their  old  footing. 

He  had  been,  long  since,  if  not  absolutely  restored  to 
Fran  von  Stein's  favor,  at  least  on  tolerable  terms  with 
her.  His  relation  to  her  son  had  never  changed ;  the 
young  man  clung  to  him  with  the  old  attachment :  a  num- 
ber of  letters  prove  this.  In  the  first  of  these  there  is 
no  mention  of  his  parents  ;  but  soon  after  we  find  greet- 
ings to  father  and  mother,  and  in  a  short  time  the  inter- 
course with  the  family  is  renewed.  In  1789  Herder  met 
Goethe  again  at  Frau  von  Stein's  ;  yet  this  seems  to  have 
been  only  a  formal  meeting,  and  the  mutual  explanation 
came  much  later.  This  the  Schillers  were  chiefly  instru- 
mental in  bringing  about.  In  1796,  as  Frau  von  Stein 
was  sitting,  one  morning,  among  the  orange  trees  before 
her  house,  Goethe,  with  his  little  son  by  the  hand,  came 
across  the  path  by  the  old  way ;  and  when  he  finally  left 
her,  she  wrote  in  her  diary :  "  How  is  it  possible  that  I 
have  so  long  misunderstood  him  ! "  When  Frau  Char- 
lotte in  the  same  year  stood  sponsor  to  Schiller's  second 
son,  she  Was  surprised  not  to  find  Goethe  at  her  side, 
who,  through  Schiller,  sent  her  his  greetings.  Year  by 
year  the  friendship  regained  more  of  its  old  tone,  and  we 
are  not  surprised  at  the  beginning  of  the  new  century  to 
find  Goethe  again  in  correspondence  with  his  old  friend. 
A  pleasant  confidence  had  once  more  grown  up  between 
them. 

In  this  sense,  then,  no  further  reconciliation  was  neces- 


464  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

sary ;  neither  was  it  intended  in  the  romance  to  give 
explanation  or  excuse  for  the  rupture,  nor  to  glorify  the 
former  beloved  one. 

I  say  this  emphatically,  because  there  are  some  things 
which  might  lead  to  a  different  opinion.  It  would  not 
have  been  unnatural  for.  Goethe  to  represent  the  prob- 
lem of  what  might  have  happened  if  he  had  married 
Frau  von  Stein  after  her  husband's  death ;  the  romance 
even  seems  to  begin  with  such  an  idea.  A  widower, 
still  a  young  man,  persuades  a  widowed  friend  of  his 
own  age,  for  whom  he  had  earlier  cherished  a  hopeless 
passion,  to  accept  his  hand  for  the  sake  of  the  old  love. 
A  marriage  takes  place.  Soon  after  a  young  maiden  of 
the  name  of  Ottilie  is  introduced  into  this  household, 
between  whom  and  Edward  the  husband  a  passion  is 
enkindled,  by  which  Edward,  Charlotte  the  wife,  and 
Ottilie  are  all  ruined. 

Nothing  would  seem  more  natural  than  the  supposition 
that  Goethe's  imagination  had  wrought  out  what,  to 
human  foresight,  would  have  happened  if  Frau  von  Stein 
later  had  become  his  wife.  The  aim  of  the  romance 
would  then  have  been  to  show  how  wise  it  was  in  him  to 
put  an  end  to  such  a  relation  at  the  right  time,  even  if  he 
had  to  do  it  in  a  very  hard  way. 

I  almost  believe  Goethe  intentionally  sought  to  give 
this  appearance,  and  therefore  lent  to  Edward's  wife,  in  a 
conspicuous  way,  Frau  von  Stein's  Christian  name.  Per- 
haps he  wished  to  mislead  the  critics.  Weimar  was  too 
dangerous  ground;  there  must  no  scandal  arise.  As 
soon  as  he  had  succeeded  in  diverting  the  scent  of  a  gos- 
siping world,  Goethe  might  conceive  his  relation  to  Fran 
von  Stein  a  second  time  in  the  same  romance,  and  this 
time  in  its  full  pregnancy.  Goethe,  who  was  often  ques- 
tioned as  to  the  special  meaning  of  this  fiction,  and 


"  ELECTIVE    AFFINITIES."  465 

reproached  with  its  immorality,  once  said,  simply :  "  What 
the  romance  means  is  very  clear.  It  is  only  an  illustra- 
tion of  Christ's  words,  '  Whosoever  looketh  on  a  woman 
to  lust  after  her  hath  committed  adultery  with  her  already 
in  his  heart.' "  This  could  not  refer  to  Fran  von  Stein 
at  the  time  he  left  her,  but  to  the  beginning  of  their 
acquaintance,  when  he  really  coveted  her. 

Let  us  put  into  a  few  words  Goethe's  whole  acquaint- 
ance during  the  Ten  Years  with  Fran  von  Stein.  A 
young  man  forms  a  friendship  with  a  married  woman 
which  may  be  called  a  "  spiritual  marriage,"  and  which 
if  the  husband  had  not  been  living  would  certainly  have 
led  to  a  real  marriage.  But  even  this  spiritual  marriage 
is  opposed  to  the  moral  code  of  human  intercourse  as 
contained  in  the  Ten  Commandments,  which  receives  its 
final  emphasis  from  the  words  of  Jesus  Christ  (Matthew 
v.  28). 

Goethe  accordingly  takes  a  married  pair  who,  though 
united  by  love,  had  yet  outlived  the  first  transports  of 
passion  on  both  sides,  and  who,  like  Herr  von  Stein  and 
his  wife,  had  been  drawn  together  partly  by  external 
motives.  Through  Ottilie's  advent  now  happens  to  these 
married  people  what  befel  Herr  von  Stein  and  his  wife 
through  Goethe. 

Into  their  wedded  life  Ottilie  enters,  as  Goethe  once 
found  his  way  into  Frau  von  Stein's  family.  Not  at 
once,  but  slowly  like  a  moral  polyp,  Goethe  attached  him- 
self to  the  Stein  household.  In  the  year  1780,  four  years 
after  this  friendship  began,  he  writes  to  Lavater  about 
Frau  vou  Stein :  "  She  has  gradually  succeeded  to  the 
position  of  mother,  sister,  beloved  one ;  and  a  bond  unites 
us  which  seems  like  these  natural  ties."  To  Frau  von 
Stein  Goethe  had  become  son,  brother,  lover,  all  in  one. 
All  this  in  the  romance  must  constitute  the  crime  of  the 

30 


466  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

poor  creature  on  whom  Goethe  imposes  this  burden. 
Ottilie's  guilt  is  the  growing  into  these  relations  with 
Edward  which  Goethe  had  borne  to  Frau  von  Stein. 
With  all  Ottilie's  innocence,  such  as  Goethe  gave  himself 
credit  for  when  first  drawn  to  Frau  von  Stein,  she  was 
yet  guilty  from  the  moment  she  gave  room  fo  the  thought 
that  Edward  could,  by  a  separation  from  Lotte,  become 
free  to  make  her  his  wife.  As  Goethe,  by  means  of  the 
intellectual  element  he  brought  into  the  Stein  family,  had 
gained  such  a  vast  ascendancy  that  a  separation  from 
him  was  inconceivable,  he  represents  Ottilie  by  her  spir- 
itual superiority  as  occupying  an  unassailable  position 
between  Edward  and  Lotte.  This  maiden  is  endowed 
with  a  subtile  capacity  to  enter  into  all  human  emotions 
against  which  we  are  powerless.  Who  can  condemn 
Edward  for  his  passion  ?  And  who  blames  Charlotte  that 
she  is  ready,  for  Ottilie's  sake,  to  consent  to  a  divorce  ? 
Who  ever  blamed  Frau  von  Stein  for  retaining  such  a 
mind  as  Goethe's  in  voluntary  dependence  upon  her  ?  It 
was  Goethe  who  should  have  gone ;  and  so  Ottilie  only, 
though  innocent,  is  the  cause  of  all  the  misfortune,  and 
must  atone  for  it  all. 

Not  because  Goethe  wished  to  encroach  upon  Herr  von 
Stein's  rights  was  he  guilty,  but  because  he  had  offended 
against  the  command  of  God,  to  break  whose  laws  is 
to  interfere  with  the  natural  order  of  the  world  and  in- 
sure destruction.  In  her  individual  relation  to  Charlotte 
Ottilie  could  scarcely  be  called  guilty,  because  Charlotte 
herself  wished  to  retreat  in  order  to  render  Edward's 
marriage  with  Ottilie  possible.  Ottilie's  guilt  consisted 
in  entertaining  the  thought  of  supplanting  a  married 
woman  in  the  heart  of  her  husband.  In  the  same  way 
Goethe  in  later  years  recognized  his  own  guilt,  in  that 
he  had  persisted  so  long  in  holding  a  place  which  for  him 


MORALITY    OF    "ELECTIVE   AFFINITIES."       467 

to  have  held  was  a  sin  against  the  holy  ordinance  on 
which  rests  the  preservation  of  human  society.  All  this 
shows  the  influence  of  Goethe's  new  view  of  the  world  on 
himself.  With  his  eye  fixed  on  the  Universal,  he  now 
judges  and  condemns  his  peculiar  case  from  the  moral 
standpoint  of  the  Universe. 

To  all  this  we  find  no  allusion  in  Werther,  —  no  hint 
that  in  his  love  for  Lotte  not  only  Albert's  rights  were 
invaded,  but  that  he  violated  at  the  same  time  the  funda- 
mental laws  of  human  society.  Ottilie's  love  for  Edward 
Nature  herself  finally  opposes,  who  is  bound  to  maintain 
her  laws  inviolate.  The  spiritual  marriage  of  Ottilie  and 
Edward,  compared  with  the  real  marriage  with  Char- 
lotte, was  nothing  but  a  finer  kind  of  bigamy,  against 
which  the  arm  of  Providence  must  ever  be  lifted.  Such  a 
spiritual  marriage,  as  we  have  seen,  had  existed  between 
Goethe  and  Frau  von  Stein.  In  that  which  had  seemed 
to  both  an  innocent  and  lawful  compensation  for  all  that 
had  been  denied  them,  Goethe  now  saw  the  unlawful,  the 
criminal,  the  punishable. 

If  we  take  into  consideration  all  the  people  who  appear 
in  "  Elective  Affinities,"  we  see  according  to  what  con- 
sistent principles  the  composition  is  executed.  In  his 
earlier  days  Goethe  was  not  accustomed  to  work  in  this 
way,  but  now  he  seems  to  have  adopted  Schiller's  method. 
Every  action  is  carefully  thought  out  beforehand,  every 
effect  produced  with  conscious  power,  and  the  whole 
wrought  up  to  a  well-planned  climax.  A  tragedy  rises 
before  our  eyes  in  the  form  of  a  narration.  There  is  not 
a  trace  of  the  early  fragmentary,  "  fancy-free  "  style  of 
writing. 

The  deliberation  with  which  the  romance  is  planned 
and  executed,  chief  regard  being  shown  to  its  effect  as  a 
whole,  is  visible  even  in  its  style.  Goethe  does  not  with 


468  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

restless  hand  file  and  polish  anew  each  word,  as  he  had 
done  formerly,  only  to  relinquish  the  task  from  sheer 
weariness  ;  but  he  gives  a  certain  amount  of  time  to  the 
handling,  and  lets  that  suffice.  Hence,  in  some  places 
there  is  a  noticeable  carelessness,  while  in  others  the  wish 
is  openly  shown  by  a  certain  treatment  to  arrive  at  defi- 
nite effects  ;  —  for  instance,  the  intentionally  short  sen- 
tences in  which  we  are  informed  of  the  death  of  the  child 
through  Ottilie's  fault :  here  the  breathless  succession  of 
the  phrases  is  meant  to  excite  the  reader ;  and,  lastly, 
the  resort  to  a  wholly  external  expedient  for  displaying 
Ottilie's  mental  wealth  by  attributing  to  her,  under  the 
name  of  a  Diary,  a  rare  amount  of  the  finest  observations 
on  life,  in  the  form  of  aphorisms :  these  could  only  be- 
long, appropriately,  to  an  older  intellectual  person,  and 
would  never  have  arisen  even  in  the  gifted  soul  of  so 
young  a  maiden  as  Ottilie. 

But  in  still  other  ways  Goethe's  new  view  of  the  uni- 
verse is  manifested  in  this  romance.  He  endeavors  to 
make  plain  the  necessity  of  everything  which  happens  by 
lending,  as  it  were,  a  double  value  to  each  character  in 
the  romance.  In  the  first  place  he-represents  each  as  an 
organic  part  of  creation,  acting  instinctively  according  to 
fixed  laws,  as  the  die  thrown  on  the  table  by  higher 
spiritual  powers  has  no  choice  how  many  spots  shall  turn 
up.  And,  in  the  second  place,  he  treats  the  same  char- 
acters as  perfectly  free,  responsible  beings,  who  must 
give  an  account  of  every  thought  of  the  soul.  From  this 
cause  arises  in  the  mind  of  the  reader  the  same  curious 
discord  that  enters  into  our  judgment  of  long  past  events 
which  we  recognize  as  unavoidable,  while  at  the  same 
time  we  cannot  give  up  the  idea  that  some  one  was  to 
blame  for  them. 

In  order  to  suggest  this  element  of  Fatalism,  Goethe 


QUESTIONS    OF   FATE   AND   FREE-WILL.         469 

1ms  chosen  an  illustration  from  chemistry,  which  has  given 
the  name  to  the  romance,  and  which  has  been  the  cause 
of  so  much  misunderstanding. 

He  compares  human  beings  to  elements  which  attract 
or  repel  one  another  without  any  exercise  of  will  in  the 
matter.  In  order  to  understand  him  here,  one  must 
certainly  be  thoroughly  conversant  with  his  works.  Spi- 
noza, in  his  manner  of  treating  human  relations,  had 
opened  the  way  to  these  views.  A  parallel  between  per- 
sonal and  chemical  attractions  we  find  already  in  his 
letters  to  Schiller,  as  a  simple  comparison  of  which  no 
special  point  is  made.  Only  in  the  preface  to  "  Elective 
Affinities "  does  this  simile  assume  the  fatalistic  char- 
acter so  offensive  to  the  reader,  and  which  Goethe  never 
intended  that  it  should  bear.  The  romance  itself  is  a 
proof  to  the  contrary.  It  would  show  how  all  this  chem- 
ical force  thrust  upon  man  by  the  demoniac  powers  does 
not  release  him  from  personal  responsibility.  Goethe 
would  say  that  whatever  results  from  our  own  fault  or 
that  of  others,  however  much  unknown  powers  may  seem 
to  rule  over  and  dispose  the  fate  of  mortals,  it  is,  after  all, 
given  to  man  to  escape  their  clutches.  But  this,  indeed, 
the  public  was  not  able  to  find  out.  It  would  seem  as  if 
Goethe  looked  upon  our  moral  actions  as  not  free,  but  as 
emanations  from  an  inexplicable  force  inherent  in  all  sub- 
stances, exciting  all  the  emotions  of  the  human  soul ;  so 
that  it  appeared  like  the  plaything  of  some  dark  spirits 
whose  intention  with  regard  to  us,  even  if  we  could 
fathom  them,  we  never  could  change. 

A  just  exposition  of  his  views  has  not  been  arrived  at, 
because  "  Elective  Affinities,"  after  having  been  spoken 
of  for  fifty  years  as  Goethe's  most  dangerous  work,  is 
to-day  passed  over  and  very  little  known. 

If  we  may  judge  of  the  origin  of  "  Elective  Affinities  " 


470  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF   GOETHE. 

from  analogy  with  the  rest  of  Goethe's  works,  the  plot 
for  it  dates  much  farther  back  than  the  time  at  which  he 
began  to  work  on  it.  Goethe  betrayed  incidentally  that 
in  the  beginning  he  had  only  intended  to  write  a  short 
story  :  indeed,  the  romance  always  retained  this  char- 
acter ;  it  is  planned  for  one  grand  consummation,  and  we 
notice  in  many  places  the  interpolations  and  purposed  ex- 
tensions. Evidently  the  final  execution  of  the  work  was 
long  delayed,  because  Goethe,  after  having  shaped  out  the 
whole  in  his  imagination  and  detached  it  from  the  per- 
sons who  first  suggested  it,  stood  in  need  of  fresh  experi- 
ences for  the  new  characters  developed  in  his  phantasy. 

We  know  how  he  finally  obtained  them,  and  who  served 
for  Ottilie's  prototype.  In  the  same  way  in  which  Goethe's 
feeling  for  Fran  von  Stein  has  been  discussed  and  dis- 
puted, the  young  maiden  who  was  the  original  of  Ottilie 
has  also  been  the  subject  of  much  controversy.  People 
have  tried  to  decide  by  convincing  proofs  whether  he 
really  loved  Minna  Herzlieb,  or  whether  his  affection  was 
restrained  within  the  limits  of  an  earnest  but  fatherly 
benevolence. 

Here  no  one  wishes  to  cast  any  aspersion  on  the  fair 
fame  of  the  beautiful,  good,  and  lovable  Minna  Herzlieb, 
but  rather  to  insure  to  her  the  honor  due  of  having 
awakened  in  Goethe  a  real  passion,  and  of  having  been 
the  inspiration  of  some  sonnets  which  Bettina,  daughter  of 
that  Max  Laroche  who  had  married  Brentano,  claimed  as 
addressed  to  herself  alone. 

As  regards  these  sonnets,  it  is  clearly  established  that 
Goethe  gave  away  copies  of  them,  made  by  his  own  hand, 
to  several  persons,  and  thus  led  Bettina  to  believe  that 
she  was  the  only  one  to  whom  spiritually  they  belonged. 
The  contents  are  not  very  passionate :  they  are,  as  one 
would  say  to-day,  more  academic. 


THE    CHARACTER    OF    OTTILIE.  471 

On  the  other  hand,  as  regards  Minna  Herzlieb,  it  is  not 
necessary  to  print  either  the  manifold  striking  assertions 
of  Goethe,  or  Minna's  explicit  declarations  that  love  was 
never  spoken  of  between  them,  or  to  test  the  credibility  of 
their  statements  by  the  application  of  chemical  affinities. 
The  character  of  Ottilie  in  "Elective  Affinities"  shows 
clearly  that  it  was  no  creation  of  passion.  Goethe  depicts 
the  growing  fancy  of  Edward  and  Ottilie  for  each  other 
in  the  most  vivid  colors,  and  with  masterly  skill  knows 
how  to  produce  in  the  mind  of  the  reader  the  utmost  de- 
gree of  sympathy.  He  stands  above  the  characters  like 
an  unimpassioned  narrator  who  does  not  write  to  relieve 
his  mind  in  the  storm  of  passion,  but  gives  a  tragic  epi- 
sode, with  full  observance  of  the  rules  of  art.  He  dis- 
plays Ottilie's  character  just  as  a  father  would  that  of  his 
beloved  daughter ;  and  if  Goethe  later  incidentally  used 
the  expression  that  "  he  had  loved  the  maiden  more  than 
he  should,"  the  words  do  not  in  any  way  bear  the  stamp 
of  a  confession. 

Ottilie  is  the  result  of  the  artistic  reflections  of  a  poet, 
who  when  he  wrote  this  romance  had  the  power  to  do 
anything  but  pour  out  his  feelings  passionately  in  a  mere 
epic  story,  as  he  had  formerly  done.  The  words,  "  He 
had  loved  the  girl  more  than  he  should  have  done,"  are 
explained  by  the  would-be  mysterious  manner  he  occa- 
sionally adopted  in  his  old  age.  He  meant  to  express  by 
it  a  very  high  degree  of  that  friendly  affection  which,  at 
this  time  of  his  life,  he  felt  for  many  women  and  young 
girls.  We  know  now  that  in  the  love-songs  to  Zuleika 
the  passionate  element  was  subsequently  added. 

Goethe's  romance  caused  a  tremendous  excitement  on 
its  appearance,  and  elicited,  together  with  the  most  un- 
bounded admiration,  the  severest  censures.  Gotta  con- 
sidered it  a  treasure-house  of  the  highest  worldly  wisdom  ; 


472  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

the  youthful  generation  found  in  Ottilie  an  ideal.  This 
innocent  maiden,  standing  alone  in  the  world,  who  was 
so  plainly  cast  into  life  by  the  heavenly  powers  to  be 
tempted,  —  the  combination  of  shrinking  modesty  with 
an  extensive  knowledge  of  the  world  ;  a  humble,  submis- 
sive disposition  united  to  an  iron  will, —  seemed  like  a 
union  of  the  greatest  qualities.  The  older  generation,  on 
the  other  hand,  saw  with  blank  astonishment,  in  many 
places  in  the  romance,  earthly  mysteries  discussed  with 
almost  antique  unreserve;  while  intimate  friends  sought 
to  find  out  who  had  sat  for  the  portraits  of  the  different 
characters. 

In  regard  to  the  latter,  I  need  only  remind  you  of  what 
we  know  already  concerning  the  genesis  of  Goethe's  other 
creations  to  prove  the  fruitlessness  of  any  attempts  to 
give  positive  data.  Although  Minna  Herzlieb  is  as  cer- 
tainly Ottilie  as  Lotte  Buff  was  Werther's  Lotte,  this 
admission  does  not  prevent  Ottilie's  origin  from  being 
shared  by  others.  There  were  several  Ottilies  as  there 
were  indeed  several  Lottes ;  and  it  does  not  help  Minna 
much  that  at  present  she  only  is  known,  for  an  accident 
may  any  day  reveal  to  us  some  one  who  must  share  with 
her  the  renowrn. 

If  Charlotte  reminds  us  of  Frau  von  Stein,  it  is  but 
remotely.  Luciane  was  thought  by  the  Jacobi  circle  to 
represent  Bettina ;  Mittler,  the  friend  who  on  all  occa- 
sions speaks  the  truth  and  gives  good  advice,  thereby 
only  making  mischief,  is  supposed  to  be  Knebel.  To 
trace  out  all  these  resemblances  can  be  of  real  interest 
only  to  those  who  are  acquainted  with  the  whole  amount 
of  literary  material,  and  who  can  positively  assert  that 
nothing  has  escaped  their  attention.  Without  such  ac- 
curate knowledge,  they  would  be  mere  suggestions  which 
could  not  satisfy  even  the  vaguest  curiosity. 


ETHICAL  MOTIVE  OF  THE  "AFFINITIES."   473 

It  has  already  been  remarked  how  much  the  characters 
in  "  Elective  Affinities  "  resemble  those  in  "  The  Natural 
Daughter,"  in  that  all  lack  individuality  to  a  certain  de- 
gree. They  are  not  what  is  commonly  called  interest- 
ing. They  are  types,  like  the  figures  in  Greek  tragedy. 
They  have  not  the  intrinsic  genuineness,  the  air  of 
familiarity,  which  charm  us  in  "Werther"  and  in  the  first 
chapters  of  "  Wilhelm  Meister."  Goethe  has  described 
even  Nature  more  in  general  terms.  While  in  "  Werther  " 
we  recognize  every  tree  of  which  he  speaks,  and  are  per- 
fectly at  home  in  Garbenheim,  we  nowhere  get  a  distinct 
idea  of  the  park  of  the  laying  out  of  which  we  hear  so 
much  in  "  Elective  Affinities."  They  are  the  descriptions 
of  an  engineer.  The  pond  in  which  the  child  is  drowned 
lies  nowhere  clearly  mirrored  to  our  eye,  while  scattered 
bits  of  landscape  painting  which  fill  Goethe's  letters  give 
us  in  a  few  words  the  whole  sentiment  of  the  scene. 
Here  the  descriptions  are  more  like  scene-painting,  and 
do  not  form  an  organic  whole  with  the  figures,  but  serve 
merely  as  background  for  them. 

In  "  Elective  Affinities,"  as  has  been  already  said,  a 
tragedy  is  veiled  in  the  guise  of  a  narration  in  which  the 
ethical  motive  is  meant  to  predominate.  If  we  could 
imagine  Goethe  to  have  chosen  the  dramatic  form  for  the 
fiction,  the  characters  would  have  borne  still  less  of  a 
personal  stamp  than  in  "  The  Natural  Daughter."  This 
may  be  the  reason  why  more  meaning  has  been  attached 
to  the  chemical  affinities  in  the  book  than  should  have 
been.  The  stress  laid  upon  the  purely  human  element  is 
so  conspicuous  in  the  romance  that  it  seems  to  have  led 
to  misinterpretation.  Finally,  each  reader  may  have  the 
same  experience  as  the  young  woman  who  told  Goethe 
that  at  first  the  book  was  unintelligible  to  her,  but 
that  suddenly,  and  without  reading  it  a  second  time, 


474  LIFE    AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

the  meaning  flashed  upon  her :  certain  experiences  were 
wanting  which,  falling  into  her  later  life,  made  things 
clear  to  her.  Such  experiences  may  not  come  to  all. 

The  chief  reason,  however,  why  "  Elective  Affinities  " 
made  such  a  confused  impression  grew  out  of  the  general 
revolution  of  things  in  Germany  and  the  rest  of  Europe 
—  to  which  Goethe  as  man  and  poet  stood  opposed  —  in 
the  year  1810,  when  the  romance  appeared.  Without 
Goethe's  being  quite  conscious  of  it,  his  work  was  re- 
ceived by  a  very  different  set  of  readers  than  that  to 
which  it  was  addressed.  In  imagination  Goethe  had 
written  for  a  public  which  no  longer  existed.  Herder 
and  Schiller  were  dead ;  Knebel  and  Wieland  old  men ; 
even  Frau  von  Stein  not  far  from  seventy.  Those  for 
whom  this  apology  for  long  past  events  was  intended 
were  no  longer  among  the  readers  of  new  works.  The 
Duchess,  to  whom  Goethe  had  read  the  fiction  and  whose 
approbation  had  encouraged  him  to  go  on  with  it,  was 
only  one  of  the  very  few  living  representatives  of  a  past 
time  into  which  Goethe  as  poet  had  been  transported. 

When  the  book  came  out,  as  the  latest  novelty  it  was 
seized  by  the  youthful  generation,  who  hoped  to  find  in  it 
their  own  history.  They  were  either  wholly  disappointed, 
or,  inspired  with  enthusiasm  for  the  genius  felt  along  its 
pages,  discerned  things  in  it  which  were  never  intended. 
So  the  judgment  of  the  day  was  only  a  strange  echo  of  a 
voice  which  Goethe  had  sent  in  a  wholly  different  direc- 
tion from  the  one  which  received  and  re-echoed  it. 

But  even  this  was  not  sufficient  to  characterize  the 
strangely  shifted  stand-point  from  which  "  Elective  Affin- 
ities "  first  made  itself  visible  to  the  world.  Not  long 
before  this,  another  work  had  appeared,  the  reflection  of 
which  had  confused  the  judgment.  Of  this  we  will  speak 
in  the  two  following  lectures. 


NEW  EEA  OF  THE  FKENCH  KE VOLUTION.  475 


LECTURE   XXIV. 

GOETHE   AS   A   POLITICIAN.  —  NAPOLEON.  —  "  FAUST." 

WE  know  in  Germany  to-day  what  is  meant  by  the 
dawn  of  a  new  era,  and  the  rising  of  a  fresh 
generation.  As  we  compare  our  condition  ten  years  ago 
with  the  present  state  of  things,  the  world  seems  wholly 
changed.  Former  things  are  looked  upon  as  antiquated  ; 
and  it  is  accepted  as  a  matter  of  course  that  every  law 
must  be  rewritten  to  meet  the  wants  of  a  new  age,  even 
though  it  has  rendered  good  service  under  its  old  form 
for  a  hundred  years  and  more  :  it  no  longer  suits,  because 
it  is  not  new.  Never,  would  it  seem,  was  a  leading  gen- 
eration so  perfectly  convinced  as  ours  of  the  incompe- 
tency  of  all  hitherto  achieved.  If  a  man  between  sixty 
and  seventy  years  of  age  retires  to-day,  for  the  reason 
that  he  no-  longer  understands  men  and  things,  it  is  only 
in  rare  cases  deemed  anything  astonishing. 

And  yet  what  ive.  experience  is  only  an  afterpiece  to 
the  European  disturbance  which  began  with  the  French 
Revolution  and  the  subversion  of  the  Roman-German 
Empire.  Such  a  universal  overthrow  of  all  existing 
things  took  place  at  that  time  as  had  never  happened 
before,  and  never  could  again  ;  because  all  later  revolu- 
tions have  been  but  the  continued  agitation  of  elements 
which  now  and  then  dovetail  together  to  form  a  basis 
apparently  solid,  but  in  reality  of  very  superficial  con- 


476  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

struction, — just  as  in  great  rivers  the  drifting  blocks  of 
ice  unite  and  become  firm  again  ;  though  every  one  knows 
it  can  only  last  a  short  time,  and  that  hot  days  will  soon 
come,  and  set  them  floating  once  more.  But  the  French 
Revolution  was  like  the  cracking  of  an  enormous  mass  of 
ice  which  for  thousands  of  years  had  been  skated  over : 
suddenly  it  appeared  that  the  waters  in  the  depth  below 
had  the  power  to  rise  to  the  surface.  No  one  believed 
this,  because  no  one  could  account  for  it.  The  thousand 
rifts  which  had  appeared  from  time  to  time  had  not 
alarmed  the  motley  company  gliding  along  helter-skel- 
ter:  they  continued  to  laugh  and  dance,  listening  to 
the  music  of  the  old  accustomed  melodies.  One  day 
the  abyss  yawns,  the  waves  rise  and  sweep  over,  and  an 
unheard-of  destruction  sets  in,  —  a  destruction  of  men, 
property,  and  ideas.  Then  dawned  a  new  era,  in  quite 
another  sense  from  to-day,  and  a  fresh  generation  was  at 
the  helm. 

But  the  crash  came,  after  all,  much  more  gradually  than 
one  would  imagine  to-day. 

In  Germany  the  flood  came  much  later  than  in  France. 
It  first  reached  us  when,  after  the  battle  of  Jena,  the 
real  heart  of  Germany  was  changed,  as  we  say,  from 
an  Austrian  to  a  French  province.  We  too  little  real- 
ize now-a-days  that  Napoleon,  in  1806,  did  not  conquer 
Germany  but  Prussia,  which,  in  spite  of  Frederick  the 
Great's  victories,  was  not  yet  wholly  incorporated  with 
Germany.  Germany,  which  included  Thuringia,  had  had 
no  individual  force  with  which  to  oppose  foreign  power : 
it  had  only  been  the  gaming  table  at  the  service  of 
.strange  hands  who  threw  the  dice.  The  French  cam- 
paign against  Prussia  was  to  Germany  like  the  explosion 
of  a  quickly-passing  thunderstorm.  The  armies  came 
suddenly  hither  from  the  West  and  the  East,  burst  upon 


DECADENCE  OF  WEIMAR  GLORY.      477 

each  other,  and  wheeled  away  conquerors  and  conquered 
together  farther  to  the  East.  Germany  previous  to  this 
had  been  politically  quiet,  —  measured  by  the  present 
standard,  —  and  was  so  again  after  the  whirlwind  had 
swept  by.  Plundered  Weimar  was  quietly  set  to  rights 
once  more,  like  a  garden  on  the  morning  after  a  hail- 
storm, in  which  the  sun  begins  to  repair  the  injury  of  the 
previous  night.  People  did  not  look  upon  the  French  as 
enemies  :  they  were, the  champions  of  freedom,  under  the 
leadership  of  a  hero  who  had  crushed  out  the  revolution 
in  his  own  land.  The  pressure  of  French  tyranny  must 
more  and  more  weigh  upon  Germany  before  the  feeling 
could  be  roused  in  the  heart  of  the  people  of  what  had 
been  destroyed  in  Prussia,  that  their  interests  were  one 
with  Prussia,  and  that  a  new  political  existence  must  be 
inaugurated.  These  convictions  grew  up  slowly,  amid 
comparatively  peaceful  circumstances,  and  it  required 
another  series  of  years  to  mature  them.  It  was  in  this 
transition  period  that  the  new  school  of  poetry  arose  to 
which  was  given,  without  any  just  reason  for  it,  the  pop- 
ular name  of  "  Romanticist,"  which  had  distinguished 
the  old  Jena  literary  society,  but  whose  patriotic  aim  was 
something  quite  new.  During  the  time  of  the  French 
supremacy  this  school  reformed  the  German  universities 
and  gave  new  impulse  to  the  sciences. 

If  in  the  face  of  these  agitations  a  man  like  Goethe 
withdrew  into  himself,  it  was  but  natural.  Moreover,  the 
golden  era  of  Jena  and  Weimar,  in  its  hitherto  exclusive 
sense,  was  now  past.  As  Jena  had  once  outshone  Erfurt,- 
so  Halle  now  stepped  into  the  foreground.  Soon  after  this, 
also,  the  university  was  founded  in  Berlin.  The  older  Ro- 
manticists, the  Schlegels  and  Tieck,  before  the  battle  of 
Jena  might  still  have  been  esteemed  as  appendages  and 
emanations  of  the  intellectual  life  of  Weimar ;  but  in  the 


478  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

midst  of  the  startling  events  of  the  time  the  rising  men 
of  talent,  springing  up  everywhere  on  German  soil, 
found  their  centres  in  Munich  and  Heidelberg,  as  well 
as  in  Jena.  They  thought  of  Goethe  already  with  mere 
historic  admiration,  and,  instead  of  calm  aesthetic  aims 
whose  pursuit  led  them  to  the  classics,  they  lived  in  pas- 
sionate political  thoughts  of  their  own,  whose  ideal  sphere 
was  the  poetry  and  history  of  their  native-land,  which 
was  of  greater  value  to  them  than  all  the  treasures  of 
ancient  Greece.  Nothing,  therefore,  was  more  natural 
than  that  Goethe  should  draw  back  ever  more  and  more 
into  himself. 

Goethe  could  not  fraternize  with  these  youths,  because 
he  did  not  share  in  what  characterized  the  new  genera- 
tion, —  hatred  to  France.  So  little  was  his  heart  inocu- 
lated with  this  feeling,  that  he  could  not  sympathize  with 
it  even  when  the  war  for  independence  broke  out  in  Ger- 
many. For  this  he  has  been  severely  reproached. 

We  will  attempt  to  state  clearly  how  this  accusation, 
which  was  only  brought  forward  later,  could  have  origi- 
nated. 

Enough  has  been  said  of  Goethe's  general  view  of  the 
world  to  enable  us  to  understand  why  the  events  which 
he  was  to  witness  between  his  sixtieth  and  seventieth 
years  were  accepted  with  the  same  philosophic  calm- 
ness with  which  from  this  time  he  looked  upon  every- 
thing. This  unimpassioned  acceptance  of  whatever  oc- 
curred would  have  been  in  itself  sufficient  to  make  it 
impossible  for  him  to  continue  the  "  Demetrius  "  after 
Schiller's  death,  even  if  he  had  been  inclined  to  conquer 
all  other  obstacles.  Goethe  was  no  active  politician. 

Schiller's  stand-point  was  that  of  the  French  Revolu- 
tion. He  never,  indeed,  had  an  opportunity  to  engage 
with  his  own  hands  in  the  reformation  of  public  affairs, 


GOETHE   WAS    NO   POLITICIAN.  479 

but,  generally  speaking,  he  was  a  radical.  "When  he  wrote 
"  Wilhelm  Tell,"  which  inculcates  the  murder  of  tyrants, 
the  character  of  Johann  Parricida  was  not  in  the  original 
conception,  and  comes  in  at  last  to  say  to  the  public  that 
one  may  murder  a  sheriff,  but  not  an  emperor.  The  theory 
of  the  sovereignty  of  the  people  was  so  mingled  with 
Schiller's  blood  that  he  instinctively  makes  it  the  basis 
of  all  his  dramas.  Marie  Stuart  is  a  not  less  legitimate 
rebel  than  the  legitimate  Elizabeth  by  whom  she  is  mur- 
dered. The  Maid  of  Orleans  embodies  in  the  form  of 
a  shepherdess  the  invincible  element  in  the  lower  orders 
of  the  people,  whose  power  expires  as  soon  as  a  selfish 
passion  mingles  with  the  pure  love  of  country.  Wallen- 
stein  is  the  genius  of  an  army  whose  noblest  exertions 
evaporate  in  nothing,  because  they  are  made  in  the  ser- 
vice of  a  miserable  emperor  whose  adherents  and  ex- 
ecutive officers  are  exhibited  in  their  naked  selfishness. 
Schiller  always  represents  great  natures  employed  in  a 
struggle  with  political  conditions  which  coil  like  snakes 
about  their  feet.  Goethe  did  not  possess  a  spark  of  this 
rebellious  feeling  against  the  facts  of  history.  Even  in 
"  Gotz  von  Berlichingen"  the  political  enthusiasm  was  only 
a  scholarly,  assthetic  one.  Goethe's  peculiar  creed  is  con- 
tained in  "  Egmont ;  "  Clarchen,  in  her  despair  wander- 
ing through  the  streets  where  the  citizens  only  stare  at 
her  without  any  sympathy,  was  Goethe's  view  as  an  his- 
torian of  the  people.  How,  as  a  practical  statesman,  in 
his  narrow  circle  he  compassionated  the  lower  classes  and 
studied  to  ameliorate  their  pitiful  fate  we  have  testimony 
enough,  which  very  probably  might  be  increased  to  an 
enormous  degree  by  reference  to  the  Weimar  archives. 
The  people  interested  him  only  as  moral  objects,  and  he 
pities  individuals ;  but  ideas  of  universal  reorganization, 
such  as  the  French  Revolution  introduced,  and  as  are  to- 


480  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

day  on  everybody's  tongue,  Goethe  did  not  then  harbor. 
Politics,  in  the  sense  of  to-day,  did  not  exist  for  him. 

How  closely  does  he  examine  everything  in  Italy,  so 
that  not  a  movement  of  the  national  life  escapes  him ! 
The  horrible  political  condition  of  the  people  alone  seems 
not  to  strike  him  as  worthy  of  remark.  He  accepts  it 
like  the  climate,  soil,  and  so  forth,  as  mere  matter  of  fact. 
In  view  of  the  tyranny  in  the  States  of  the  Church,  the 
thought  never  seems  to  come  to  him  that  the  people  will 
one  day  realize  with  shame  their  degradation,  and  rally 
in  their  own  right. 

It  is  true  that  the  Duke  in  political  affairs  always  de- 
sired Goethe's  opinion,  and  that  Goethe  in  the  important 
transactions  whose  aim  was  the  formation  of  the  "  Deutsch- 
en  Fiirstenbundes  "  drew  up  the  protocol ;  and  we  have  a 
circumstantial  letter  from  him  to  the  Duke  wherein  he 
explains  his  views  of  the  German  conditions  under  Empe- 
ror Joseph.  Many  things  of  the  kind  are  certainly  still 
unpublished,  and  this  side  of  Goethe's  official  labors  may 
yet  appear  much  wider  than  is  generally  believed.  But 
what  does  this  amount  to  ?  For  German,  French,  and 
Italian  political  conditions,  in  the  present  sense  of  prog- 
ress, Goethe  seems  to  have  had  no  sympathy.  The  politi- 
cal movement  at  that  time  culminated  in  the  interests 
of  universal  humanity.  It  was  international,  fostered 
only  in  educated  circles,  and  had  nothing  to  do  with 
the  governments. 

I  here  recall  the  distinction,  earlier  explained,  between 
the  definitely-ended  European  history,  which  we  call  the 
Roman,  and  universal  history,  beginning  in  1850  and  em- 
bracing the  five  parts  of  the  world,  which  is  the  Germanic. 
Of  the  latter  Goethe  had  only  a  dim  presentiment ;  while 
he  was  fully  at  home  in  the  former,  for  he  had  grown  up 
in  it. 


HIS   POLITICAL   IDEAS    UNPOPULAR.  481 

Roman  history  never  produced  in  the  Germanic  demo- 
cratic sense  a  representation  of  the  people.  It  had  in  an 
aristocratic  sense  an  assembly  of  representatives  to  whom 
their  rights  were  committed,  but  these  were  by  no  means 
deputies  of  the  whole  people.  The  people  as  a  whole  had 
only  one  advocate,  the  Emperor,  who  protected  those  of 
his  subjects  who  had  fewer  rights  against  the  more  privi- 
leged ;  the  idea  of  a  united  nation  and  a  body  of  people  em- 
anating from  it  —  who,  standing  beside  the  Emperor,  kept 
the  welfare  of  their  country  ever  in  view,  without  whose  yea 
and  nay  no  legal  enactment  was  possible  —  was  as  incom- 
prehensible to  Goethe  as  in  the  beginning  it  had  been  to 
the  French,  by  whom  during  the  Revolution  this  doctrine 
was  first  applied.  They  were  enthusiastic  in  France  over 
formulas  whose  scope  they  did  not  comprehend.  The 
people,  accustomed  to  being  kept  down  by  the  mountain- 
ous weight  of  a  government  machine,  were  seized  with  a 
kind  of  giddiness  when  suddenly  released  from  its  pres- 
sure. An  unheard-of  self-maceration  went  on,  until  Na- 
poleon in  the  most  brutal  way  restored  in  part  the  former 
condition,  and  with  his  iron  hand  checked  the  further  dis- 
integration of  old  institutions. 

Goethe,  it  is  true,  believed  in  Rousseau's  doctrine  of 
national  sovereignty.  He  had  seen  the  wholesome  fer- 
mentation begin  which  these  thoughts  everywhere  pro- 
duced in  the  stagnant  political  life  about  him  ;  but  never 
would  the  idea  have  entered  his  mind  that  such  could  really 
become  the  normal  state  of  existence,  nor  would  he  have  con- 
ceived it  possible  that  what  had  been  witnessed  in  France 
could  ever  take  place  in  Germany.  When  Goethe  joined 
in  the  campaign  of  1793,  he  went  in  a  private  capacity, 
and  as  a  spectator  watched  proceedings  which  could  never 
profoundly  awaken  his  sympathy  in  their  ultimate  aim. 
The  Frenchmen  who  were  seized,  as  it  were,  by  patriotic 

31 


482  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

spasms  were  to  him  objects  of  the  greatest  astonishment. 
He  little  dreamed  that  this  people  storming  on  from  day 
to  day  would  rise  to  such  a  terrific  attack  on  sluggish 
Germany,  infect  her  with  their  fever,  and  be  the  cause  of 
revolutionary  reforms.  In  Germany,  Frederick  the  Great 
had  made  of  Prussia  a  monarchy  so  sound  in  appearance 
as  to  guarantee  stability  to  all ;  and  the  very  thought  of 
Prussia  had  a  universally  tranquillizing  effect :  he  had  only 
to  raise  his  voice,  and  order  was  again  restored.  Even  at 
that  time  there  were  circles  which  hailed  with  enthusiasm 
the  thought  of  a  Prussian  emperor  of  Germany.  In  the 
heart  of  the  land,  therefore,  people  looked  with  perfect  in- 
difference upon  what  happened  on  the  borders,  and  even 
when  the  French  in  their  encounters  with  the  South-Ger- 
man States  came  farther  to  the  north,  it  did  not  excite 
the  slightest  anxiety.  People  were  convinced  that  the 
experiences  France  was  passing  through  would  in  a  peace- 
ful way  benefit  the  whole  world.  For  Schiller,  as  has  just 
been  said,  these  years  were  times  of  joyful  hope  to  which 
he  continued  to  abandon  himself,  even  while  in  France 
and  Italy  the  rotten  supports  of  the  old  institutions  were 
crashing  to  pieces  with  resounding  echo.  Schiller,  while 
he  glorified  the  French  national  spirit  in  the  Jungfrau  von 
Orleans,  did  not  consider  that  French  and  Germans,  as 
human  beings,  here  did  not  mean  the  same  thing.  Schil- 
ler was  flattered  by  the  diploma  of  French  citizen  :  "  it 
might  perhaps  some  day  be  of  use  to  his  children."  No 
one  saw  in  France  an  inimical  element;  and  Knebel  him- 
self wished  to  celebrate  in  song  Bonaparte's  successes, 
whose  exploits  seemed  fitted  to  be  the  inspiration  of  an  he- 
roic epic.  At  last  came  a  time,  when  in  spite  of  all  this 
Prussia  was  forced  to  oppose  the  hero.  We  know  what  hap- 
pened. Such  a  tremendous  shock  public  opinion  never  be- 
fore experienced.  The  iron  colossus  had  not  only  stood 


FRENCH   AND    GERMAN    POLITICS.  483 

upon  clay  feet,  but  had  been  wholly  made  of  clay.  Prussia 
was  not  beaten,  —  she  ceased  to  exist.  With  satisfaction 
Austria  and  Saxony  had  offered  a  helping  hand  to  achieve 
this :  it  was  not  fifty  years  since  Frederick  the  Great  had 
humbled  them.  Prussia  was  so  hopelessly  annihilated 
that  the  whole  Prussian  greatness,  like  a  little  episode  in 
German  history,  seemed  to  be  played  out. 

But  this  absolute  destruction  had  a  tranquillizing  effect. 
Napoleon's  victorious  campaign  in  1806  was  hardly  to  be 
called  a  war.  The  fortresses  surrendered  without  resist- 
ance. He  marched  into  Berlin,  and  pushed  on  without 
meeting  opponents.  Germany,  split  at  this  time  into 
three  parts,  remained  so  for  nearly  ten  years,  —  the  States 
of  the  Rheinbund,  the  true  heart  of  Germany,  almost 
belonging  to  France ;  Austria  allied  with  France  by 
marriage;  and,  far  to  the  northeast,  the  down-trodden 
Prussian  provinces  whose  life-blood  was  being  drained  by 
forced  contributions.  The  wealth  of  the  Prussian  nobles 
vanished  at  this  time. 

This  condition  was  all  the  more  curious,  that  while 
Napoleon  came  by  degrees  to  be  hated  more  and  more, 
the  French  individually  were  not  hated.  The  good  Ger- 
man families  owed  their  solid  culture  to  the  French. 
German  literature  had  something  of  the  parvenu  charac- 
ter, and  di'd  not  offer  the  firm  classic  basis  of  the  French. 
The  Republic  itself  was  also  held  in  honor.  The  new 
privileges  for  the  common  people,  which  the  Republic  in- 
troduced, had  put  an  end  to  innumerable  deeply-rooted 
abuses  and  insufferable  burdens,  and  created  in  their 
stead  free  national  citizenship.  The  benefits  of  the 
French  victories  were  perceived  as  vividly  in  Germany  as 
the  losses.  We  are  indebted  to  the  French  for  the  rise  of 
the  German  republican  element.  An  era  of  economic 
reforms  began  ;  and  Western  Germany,  although  cruelly 


484         -        LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

depleted  by  the  war,  began  to  breathe  freely  under  comfort- 
able institutions  which  were  modelled  after  the  French. 

Only  gradually  did  the  change  of  opinion  gain  ground, 
yet  everywhere  where  the  French  came  as  conquerors  it 
was  to  be  observed  how  soon  from  agreeable  companions 
they  became  insolent  despots.  If  the  police  rule,  operat- 
ing through  false  reports  and  sustaining  a  deceitful 
peace  by  ever-increasing  tyrannies,  was  felt  to  be  intoler- 
able in  France,  in  Germany  it  became  an  oppression  not 
to  be  endured.  It  was  ever  more  and  more  clearly  per- 
ceived that  the  systematic  subjugation  of  Prussia  was  one 
and  the  same  thing  with  the  ruin  of  the  German  nation. 
The  indignation  with  which  the  Prussian  officials  and 
nobles,  as  well  as  commoners,  endured  the  ignominious 
part  they  were  condemned  to  play  was  shared  by  the  rest 
of  'Germany.  In  the  minds  of  the  younger  and  youngest 
generations  awoke  that  feeling  of  resistance  which  was 
the  beginning  of  the  national  up-rising  in  1813,  and 
which,  as  the  real  basis  of  our  present  political  freedom, 
belongs  among  our  most  precious  annals.  But  whence 
should  Goethe  —  the  statesman  of  the  old  school,  the 
experienced  witness  of  so  much  frailty  in  the  highest 
circles  —  derive  confidence  in  a  popular  agitation  whose 
depth  and  force  he  was  not  able  to  appreciate  ? 

Before  all  things,  in  Goethe's  opinion,  every  change 
that  was  to  amount  to  anything  must  be  initiated  by  the 
Government ;  and  as  to  the  governments,  Goethe  knew 
too  well  how  the  matter  stood  with  them.  Nothing  in 
his  experience  gave  him  any  conception  of  a  people  who 
through  their  own  undisciplined  strength,  trusting  only 
to  vague,  ideal  promptings,  started  an  agitation  of  a 
purely  private  nature.  In  France  they  had  guillotined 
the  King,  and  put  themselves  in  his  place  ;  but  in  Ger- 
many a  noiseless  upheaval  was  prepared,  —  not  in  oppo- 


POLITICAL    FERMENTATION    IN    GERMANY.      485 

sition  to  the  King  and  government,  but  with  a  quiet 
disregard  of  all  existing  authorities,  —  which,  without 
special  plan  or  resources,  was  expected  to  result  in  free- 
dom, peace,  and  greatness  for  Germany.  In  order  to 
take  part  in  such  an-  agitation  it  was  necessary  that 
one  should  be  either  a  young  enthusiast,  an  historical 
fanatic,  an  inexperienced  beginner  in  life,  or  that  as  a 
Prussian  he  should  be  among  those  who  were  so  fright- 
fully oppressed  by  the  existing  state  of  things  that  to 
play  va  banque  seemed  the  worthiest  thing  for  him  to  do. 
These  are  the  reasons  why  Goethe,  who  never  had  lived 
in  Prussia, —  whose  first  and  second  home  lay  on  the  map 
of  Germany  at  that  time  far  away  from  the  Prussian 
boundary ;  who  knew  the  helplessness  of  the  court  and 
the  exhaustion  of  the  land ;  who  in  Carlsbad  must  learn 
from  hearsay  how  things  were  in  Berlin, —  necessarily 
looked  upon  our  political  condition  as  irremediable. 
Only  one  single  war  in  the  spirit  of  the  new  Germanic 
world  had  until  now  been  known :  this  was  the  revolt  of  the 
American  colonies  from  England.  But  even  in  this  case 
it  appeared  doubtful  if  England,  without  the  hostility  of 
France  under  which  she  suffered  at  the  same  time,  and 
without  the  monstrous  distance  which  separated  her  from 
her  colonies,  would  have  yielded.  The  idea  of  an  up-rising 
of  Germany,  an  "  insurrection  of  the  whole  people,"  never 
occurred  to  Goethe  even  in  a  dream.  It  seemed  mad- 
ness to  oppose  a  "  free,  united  Germany  in  arms  "  to  the 
centralizing  power  of  Napoleon,  terrible  even  to  the  last. 
So  it  seemed  to  many  of  our  noblest  patriots,  even  when 
after  the  northern  campaign  signs  appeared  of  the 
downfall  of  Napoleon,  and  York  had  already  gone  over 
to  the  Russians.  It  is  interesting  to  read  what  Count 
Gesler  writes  to  Caroline  von  Wolzogen,  an  enthusiastic 
patriot,  as  the  people  began  to  take  up  arms,  —  Gesler  had 


486  LIFE   AND   TIMES   OF    GOETHE. 

stood  encouragingly  at  the  side  of  the  father  of  Theodore 
Korner  in  1813:- 

"An  exultation  has  taken  possession  of  the  Germans 
which  sometimes  appears  ridiculous  to  me.  We  are  going 
to  destruction  like  a  crowd  of  Don  Quixotes  for  our 
national  honor.  This  is  not  inspiration  from  above,  but 
comes  entirely  from  among  the  people.  How  all  the  hetero- 
geneous elements  of  which  these  patriot  bands  are  composed 
under  the  most  favorable  circumstances  could  possibly  be 
made  homogeneous  I  cannot  conceive.  Nevertheless  I  have 
looked  upon  it  as  one  looks  upon  a  miracle,  with  a  coolness 
and  serenity  which  I  must  try  to  conceal." 

Goethe  also  could  not  think  otherwise.  It  was  not  want 
of  patriotism,  it  was  the  impossibility  of  transforming  him- 
self at  sixty-four  into  a  youth  of  twenty.  This  secret 
doubt  was  also  the  cause  why  Goethe,  when  a  volunteer 
corps  was  organized  in  Weimar,  held  his  son  back. 
Even  if  the  Government  had  undertaken  a  war  for  free- 
dom, Goethe  could  not  have  believed  in  any  success  of 
these  volunteer  elements,  which,  according  to  his  war  ex- 
periences in  1793,  must  give  trouble  on  the  field. 

It  only  remains  to  us  in  this  connection  to  speak  of 
Goethe's  predilection  for  Napoleon. 

We  know  that  Napoleon,  on  coming  to  Erfurt,  sent  for 
Goethe,  and  held  the  famous  conversation  with  him,  at 
the  close  of  which  the  exclamation  burst  from  his  lips, 
"  Voil&  mi  homme!  "  which  bears  this  translation  :  "  At 
last  a  man  who  stands  face  to  face  with  me  in  Ger- 
many ! "  Napoleon  had  fathomed  Goethe ;  but  Goethe 
also  knew  how  to  value  Napoleon.  In  the  midst  of  a 
confusion  which  appeared  inextricable,  Goethe  had  seen 
this  youthful  general  rise  like  some  ancient  hero,  who, 
one  against  a  host,  conquered  whole  nations  with  the 
stroke  of  a  club. 


HOW  NAPOLEON  IMPRESSED  GOETHE.    487 

But  now  Germany  itself  was  to  feel  the  power  of  Napo- 
leon !  The  Prussian  armies  scattered  like  dust  before 
this  man,  in  whose  hands  the  refractory  French  mob  of 
the  Revolution  became  well-disciplined  troops,  obedient 
to  a  wink.  Goethe  made  the  acquaintance  of  Napoleon 
surrounded  by  his  marshals  in  the  midst  of  their  labors. 
He  had  never  imagined  anything  like  it.  He  saw  fresh, 
genial,  cultivated  men,  well  versed  in  art  and  science, 
whose  tremendous  energy  appeared  even  through  a  cour- 
teous manner,  free  from  all  prejudice,  overflowing  with 
health,  power,  and  ambition,  and  accustomed  to  conquer 
wherever  they  appeared.  Who  could  resist  this  unheard- 
of  combination  ?  What  was  even  Frederick  the  Great, 
who  swayed  a  well-organized,  docile  people,  in  compari- 
son with  Napoleon  galloping  on  an  unbridled  horse,  who 
tamed  his  own  people  (audacious  to  the  point  of  brutality) 
at  the  same  time  that  he  subjugated  foreign  powers  ? 

As  an  historical  phenomenon  the  French  emperor  made 
such  an  impression  on  Goethe  that  no  power  on  earth 
seemed  great  enough  to  confront  him. 

We  know  how  universal  this  belief  was  in  Europe,  and 
how  little  even  the  Russian  campaign  tended  to  shake  it. 
The  emperor,  hurrying  alone  from  Moscow  to  Paris,  was 
in  his  flight  just  as  much  an  object  of  terror  to  the  world 
as  he  had  been  at  the  beginning  of  the  campaign.  There- 
fore neither  Goethe,  nor  others  who  thought  as  he  did, 
should  be  reproached  with  want  of  patriotism.  They 
were  too  much  stunned  by  the  events  they  had  passed 
through  to  be  able  to  judge  them. 

But  now  must  be  stated  what  is  equally  true. 

Although,  practically,  Goethe  did  not  think  the  right 
time  had  yet  come  ;  although  he  belonged  to  the  states- 
men who,  even  after  the  calamity  in  Russia,  did  not  be- 
lieve in  any  good  result  from  this  rising  of  the  German 


488  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

people,  —  his  heart  always  cherished  the  idea  of  what  a 
free,  united  Germany  might  be.  Of  this  we  have  proof. 
Naturally  a  man  like  Goethe  must  be  reserved  in  his  ex- 
pression ;  but  read  what  Dr.  Kieser  of  Jena,  who  organ- 
ized the  volunteer  corps  in  Weimar  told  Luise  Seidler 
of  his  conversation  with  Goethe  at  that  time.  With 
what  fire  Goethe  could  counsel  when  he  really  opened  his 
heart !  We  imagine  things  in  a  much  greater  state  of 
fusion  at  that  time  in  Germany  than  they  really  were. 
We  judge  everything  from  the  prevailing  tone  of  mind 
in  Berlin.  We  do  not  realize  how  disconnected,  unin- 
formed, and  suspicious  the  rest  of  Germany  was,  —  not 
knowing  where  to  look  for  help.  If  they  lifted  their  eyes 
to  those  above  them  they  beheld  vacillating  characters  by 
whom  no  encouraging  word  was  ever  spoken  to  the  peo- 
ple ;  if  on  the  other  hand  they  looked  down,  they  saw  a 
people  roused  by  a  questionable  political  enthusiasm,  who 
were  conscious  of  their  weakness. 

These  circumstances  account  for  the  manner  in  which 
Goethe  subsequently  accepted  our  victories  and  successes : 
he  was  surprised,  and  never  concealed  it.  As  a  man  of 
the  old  school  who  had  seen  the  shipwreck  of  the  Fiirst- 
enbund,  he  could  only  call  to  mind  the  dissensions 
among  the  princes  who  represented  the  people,  and  he 
looked  upon  the  final  conquest  of  France  as  simply  an 
historical  miracle.  In  December,  1813,  he  writes  to  Kne- 
bel  that  he  has  never  known  the  Germans  united  except 
in  their  hatred  of  Napoleon.  He  would  like  to  see  what 
they  would  do  next  when  they  had  driven  him  across  the 
Rhine !  It  seems  as  if  Goethe  had  foreseen  all  the  piti- 
fulness  of  the  Vienna  Congress,  as  well  as  how,  after  a 
short  continuance  of  the  intoxication  of  victory,  the  politi- 
cally undisciplined  people  forced  the  Government  to  move 
on  in  a  reactionary  sense.  Now  for  the  first  time,  when 


CONSERVATIVE,   BUT    NOT    INDIFFERENT.       489 

Goethe  calculated  on  the  necessary  reaction  of  the  people, 
did  the  conviction  come  to  him  that  a  new  era  was  about 
to  begin.  That  feeling  came  over  him  of  the  utter  worth- 
lessness  of  the  present  which  continued  to  the  end  of  his 
days.  His  prophetic  soul  recognized  that,  after  the  fright- 
ful political  struggles,  the  period  of  national  exhaustion 
and  stagnation  which  his  last  years  witnessed  was  only  an 
imperceptible  preparation  for  new  conflicts.  Here  again 
he  was  ahead  of  his  contemporaries.  At  this  time  was 
roused  in  Goethe  (since  to  him  open  liberal  opposition 
seemed  precipitate  and  unnecessary)  the  ironical  spirit 
which  prevails  in  the  political  passages  in  the  second  part 
of  "  Faust,"  and  which  may  be  compared  to  the  often 
misunderstood  opinions  of  Alexander  von  Humboldt  at 
the  court  of  Frederick  William  IV. 

Goethe  and  Humboldt  knew  that  the  triumph  of  liberal 
ideas  irresistibly  drew  on  ;  but  they  also  believed  that 
the  assistance  of  the  private  man  could  not  hasten  the 
approach  of  the  world-historical  agitations  which  were  to 
convulse  Europe.  They  satisfied  themselves  with  playing 
the  subordinate  part  of  the  political  Mephisto  and  pro 
virili  parte, —  in  view  of  the  approaching  storm  to  help 
to  build  the  Noah's  Ark  in  which  during  the  time  of  high 
water  all  our  intellectual  work  might  safely  be  abandoned 
to  the  winds  and  waves.  Goethe's  conversations  in  the 
last  ten  years  of  his  life  reveal  a  clear  understanding  of 
the  times ;  but  he  knew  perfectly  well  that  personally  he 
should  not  witness  the  Revolution.  The  July  French 
Revolution  scarcely  interested  him :  the  strife  pending  at 
that  time  between  Cuvier  and  Geoffrey  St.  Hilaire  about 
matters  of  natural  science  seemed  to  him  of  vastly  more 
importance  than  the  street  fights  of  Paris. 

I  have  thus  tried,  in  advance,  to  state  concisely  Goe- 
the's political  views.  Let  us  now  return  to  the  point 


490  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

when  some  time  after  the  battle  of  Jena, —  forced  to  an 
involuntary  peace  by  the  omnipotent  French  emperor,  — 
German  youth  sought  refuge  in  the  world  of  thought, 
there  to  find  consolation  for  the  bitter  ignominy  they  had 
suffered,  and  to  prepare  for  a  brighter  future. 

It  would  never  have  occurred  to  any  one  at  that  time 
to  interview  Goethe  for  the  purpose  of  finding  out 
whether  he  was  in  secret  friendly  to  France.  Never  were 
suspicions  of  this  kind  raised  against  him  while  he  lived. 
They  were  first  brought  up  during  the  thirty  or  forty 
years  when  the  present  German  empire  was  slowly  shap- 
ing itself  in  the  minds  of  the  people,  and  when  all  who 
had  any  pretension  to  renown  or  greatness  of  any  kind 
had  their  political  convictions  inquired  into,  even  posthu- 
mously. Then  it  looked  as  if  Goethe  in  the  years  of 
oppression,  and  in  the  war  for  freedom,  had  not  fulfilled 
his  duty  to  his  country.  But  in  his  own  time  it  was  oth- 
erwise regarded. 

The  thought  of  Goethe  was  an  inspiring  one  for  young 
and  old.  His  name  was  written  ineffaceably  in  the  book 
of  German  glory.  Did  his  labors  as  a  poet  seem  ended  ? 
Goethe  was  nevertheless  the  "  Altmeister."  All  rejoiced 
to  see  this  mighty  man  still  so  hale  and  hearty.  A  pil- 
grimage to  Weimar  began  to  be  among  the  things  to  be 
done;  criticisms  issuing  from  there  won  in  importance. 
As  in  earlier  times  the  older  poets  and  authors  for  their 
own  benefit  had  flattered  the  new  power  which  rose  in 
Goethe,  so  now  the  younger  sought  so  to  do.  Goethe 
submitted  as  he  formerly  had  done ;  but  one  day  lie 
proved  to  the  people  that  he  still  intended  to  be  a  co- 
laborer,  and  that  all  he  had  hitherto  produced  had  been 
only  preliminary  to  his  greatest  achievement,  with  which 
he  now  surprised  Germany. 

Let  us  observe  that  until  now  the  work  has  been  but 


THE   APPEARANCE    OF    "FAUST."  491 

cursorily  mentioned  on  which  is  founded  mainly,  not  only 
Goethe's  fame,  but  that  of  our  entire  German  literature, 
—  "  Faust."  The  fragments  which  had  appeared  in  1790 
had  passed  almost  unnoticed  ;  not  until  the  first  part  was 
published  complete  in  1808  did  "Faust"  create  an  im- 
pression, but  now  in  such  measure  that  all  Goethe  had 
written  hitherto  was  thrown  into  the  shade  by  this  new 
production. 

We  will  now  speak  of  "  Faust,"  the  work  which  as  a 
dream  transported  him  again  into  the  midst  of  his  youth- 
ful renown,  and  restored  to  him  the  first  place  among 
living  poets,  as  if  he  were  just  entering  on  his  career  and 
as  young  as  any  of  them ;  from  whose  publication  dates 
the  world-wide  fame  which  attended  Goethe  from  that 
time  until  his  death,  and  lives  after  him  to-day. 

Every  one  who  names  Goethe  names  Faust  in  spirit  at 
the  same  time.  "  Faust"  is  Goethe's  most  beautiful,  his 
greatest,  and  most  important  work  ;  that  which  he  began 
the  first,  and  which  in  conception  reached  on  beyond  his 
death.  To  no  other  can  the  expression  life-work  be  ap- 
plied with  such  truth.  "Faust"  would  have  sufficed  to 
make  Goethe  our  greatest  poet,  even  if  he  had  written 
nothing  else. 

"  Faust "  is  the  poem  of  poems.  Put,  not  only  all  Goe- 
the's other  poems,  but  our  entire  poetic  literature  into 
the  other  scale  and  wait !  —  which  sinks  ?  The  person  of 
Faust  appears  to  us  to-day  as  a  natural,  indispensable  pro- 
duct of  German  life,  — I  should  say  of  German  history, 
if  history  here  we're  not  an  inadequate  idea.  History 
relates  too  exclusively  to  crude  events ;  the  element  out 
of  which  Faust  arose  is  finer  and  more  comprehensive. 
It  embraces,  beside  the  outward  experiences  of  the  peo- 
ple, also  the  creations  of  imagination:  these  are*  our  im- 
mortals in  the  proper  sense.  Let  me  take  some  of  our 


492  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

noblest  names,  —  Charlemagne,  Otto  the  Great,  Freder- 
ick the  Hoheustaufe,  Frederick  the  Great ;  or,  in  another 
department,  Frederick  Schiller,  Leasing,  even  Goethe  him- 
self,—  and  all  contrasted  with  Faust  strike  us  as  imper- 
fect and  transitory,  partly  faded,  partly  grown  dark  with 
age.  A  feeling  will  steal  over  us  that  with  all  their  im- 
mortality they  are  only  long-buried,  mortal,  corruptible 
men,  while  Faust,  who  never  lived,  who  in  dreams  was 
woven  out  of  mist,  —  what  a  life- warmth  radiates  from 
his  form  ! 

Faust  is  to  us  Germans  the  sovereign  in  the  host  of  all 
the  creations  of  European  literature.  Hamlet,  Achilles, 
Hector,  Tasso,the  Cid,  Frithiof,  Siegfrid,  and  Fingal, — all 
these  forms  seem  to  lose  something  of  their  lifelike  fresh- 
ness when  Faust  appears.  The  light  which  rests  upon 
them  is  pale,  like  moonlight,  while  Faust  stands  in  the 
full  blaze  of  the  sun.  Their  language  has  to  our  ears 
something  of  a  foreign  sound,  while  Faust  speaks  so  as  to 
be  understood  by  every  one  in  his  faintest  accents.  The 
breath  of  those  heroes  is  not  the  bracing  mountain  air 
which  streams  from  the  lips  of  Faust.  Their  spirit,  how- 
ever wide  its  scope,  has  not  the  expansive  wing  on  which 
he  soars  above  the  world  and  its  phenomena,  that  he 
may  describe  everything  with  his  eagle  glance.  In  order 
to  test  Schiller's  knowledge  of  the  world  and  dialectic 
acuteness,  I  feigned  the  possibility  of  his  appearing  to- 
day in  the  midst  of  our  parliamentary  debates.  I  chose 
this  illustration,  because  when  the  question  to  decide  is 
whether  an  appearance  is  real  or  not,  'we  must  apply  the 
severest  tests.  A  character  in  romance  must  bear  the 
question  of  how  should  we  regard  him  if  he  lived  six 
months  in  our  family.  A  picture  must  not  lose  in  effect 
when  we  think  of  it  as  hanging  on  the  walls  of  our  own 
room ;  a  warrior  on  the  stage  must  remain  a  warrior  to 


CHARACTERS    OF    FAUST   AND    GRETCIIEISr.      493 

us  if  we  transport  him  into  the  tumult  of  a  real  battle. 
Imagine  any  of  those  historic  or  fictitious  heroes  enter- 
ing an  assembly  of  the  unrelenting  critics,  whom  Germany 
has  chosen  to  control  in  her  name  what  are  supposed  to 
be  the  highest  interests  of  the  people,  —  would  it  not  be 
perceived  instantly  that  their  language  is  no  longer  ours, 
their  way  of  thinking  obsolete,  and  their  appearance 
among  us  altogether  awkward  ?  "What  would  Achilles, 
or  Csesar,  or  even  Frederick  the  Great,  have  to  say  to  us 
to-day,  which,  without  doing  violence  to  themselves  or  to 
us,  would  be  in  harmony  with  our  view  of  the  present 
state  of  the  world  ?  But  now,  allow  Faust  to  appear 
with  Mephisto  at  his  side,  would  not  these  two  instantly 
perceive  the  significance  of  the  moment,  and  in  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye,  with  a  few  incisive  thoughts,  be  able 
to  draw  around  them  attentive  listeners  ?  To  be  sure, 
Faust  is  the  youngest  among  the  creations  of  poetic  fancy 
which  we  have  enumerated.  He  is  chronologically  nearer 
to  us  than  the  others.  But  we  must  consider  how  many 
long  years  have  flown  since  the  idea  of  Faust  arose  and 
since  it  was  perfected ;  how  little  Goethe  when  he  wrote 
his  "  Faust "  knew  of  the  world  of  to-day ;  how  little  the 
generation  which  was  first  inspired  by  it  possessed  the 
qualities  which  are  now  valued  in  political  affairs.  And 
yet  Goethe  succeeded  in  creating  a  character  which  is 
as  full  of  life  at  this  moment  as  if  it  were  the  creation 
of  yesterday.  Wholly  different  phases  in  Faust  are  illu- 
minated to  our  eyes  to-day  from  what  were  understood 
fifty  years  ago,  yet  we  believe  we  see  his  character  in  the 
truer  light.  Who  can  say  what  they  may  discover  who 
will  judge  it  one  or  two  hundred  or  a  thousand  years 
later,  as  we  discuss  Homer's  heroes,  who  have  already 
lived  in  story  three  thousand  years  ? 

And  as  Faust  among  men  so  is  Gretchen  among  women. 


494  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

Antigone,  Ipliigenia,  Ophelia,  Imogen,  as  regards  in- 
trinsic living  power,  must  all  yield  precedence  to  her. 
Even  Shakspeare's  Juliet  can  not  rival  her.  She  stands 
more  apart  from  us,  and  has  many  traits  that  have  grown 
unfamiliar  to  us,  while  Gretchen  says  no  word  and  takes 
no  step  which  is  not  perfectly  intelligible. 

When  speaking  of  Hermann  and  Dorothea,  I  placed 
Dorothea  in  contrast  to  all  Goethe's  other  heroines,  say- 
ing that  none  possessed,  in  my  opinion,  the  reality  of 
Dorothea.  In  the  list  of  names  enumerated,  however,  I 
purposely  omitted  Gretchen's,  which  among  all  Goethe's 
creations  takes  the  highest  place;  for  Gretchen  has  not 
only  Dorothea's  truth  and  reality  in  full  measure,  which 
draw  us  very  near  to  her,  but  is  at  the  same  time,  not- 
withstanding, separated  from  us  by  that  ideal  veil  through 
which  —  though  close  before  our  eyes  —  she  yet  seems  at 
an  unapproachable  distance  from  us.  This  blending  of 
the  most  heartfelt  sympathy  with  her,  as  if  she  were  our 
sister,  with  the  unfathomable  mystery  surrounding  her  as 
if  she  were  a  saiiit,  lends  to  her  in  our  eyes  such  an  irre- 
sistible attraction  that  we  place  her  without  scruple  —  so 
far  as  our  literary  knowledge  reaches  —  above  all  the  be- 
ings that  had  ever  sprung  from  the  imagination  of  a  poet. 
All  the  excellences  are  hers  which  Goethe's  first  youth- 
ful power  lent  to  his  earlier  works,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
all  which  mature  years  of  criticism  added  to  his  original 
creative  capacity.  And  these  double  advantages  unite 
most  naturally  in  Gretchen,  since  she  is  the  first  as  well 
as  the  last  of  his  creations.  Through  the  entire  life  of  a 
man  he  labored  upon  this  his  noblest  work,  and  until  the 
very  last  found  something  to  add  to  or  to  improve  in  it. 

Through  Faust  and  Gretchen  the  Germans  take  the 
first  rank  in  the  poetry  of  all  times  and  nations.  This  is 
granted  them  without  grudging.  Ever  repeated  English, 


A  FAULT  IN  GOETHE'S  MANLY  TYPES.      495 

French,  and  Italian  translations  appear,  whose  authors 
from  the  outset  offer  their  labor  only  as  an  attempt,  since 
anything  like  the  beauty  of  the  original  it  is  impossi- 
ble to  obtain.  In  the  presence  of  no  other  work  would 
they  humble  themselves  so  reverently.  It  is  as  if"  Faust " 
were  the  common  property  of  all  modern  nations,  to  which 
Germany  had  no  special  claim. 

That  under  these  circumstances  "  Faust"  has  already,  as 
it  were,  become  emancipated  from  Goethe  as  its  author 
is  not  to  be  wondered  at.  In  all  Goethe's  most  finished 
works,  those  classic  creations  of  his  mature  power  which 
have  an  individuality  of  their  own,  his  hand  still  remains 
visible,  —  if  only  so  far,  that  no  other  artist  save  he  could 
possibly  have  originated  them.  It  was  Goethe's  language 
they  all  spoke.  Goethe  himself  spread  out  like  a  great 
fruit-tree  in  the  distance  the  branches  on  which  these 
golden  apples  grew.  Faust  alone  stands  as  if  he  had 
never  grown  anywhere  on  earth,  but  dropped  finished 
from  heaven. 

And  yet,  separated  as  Faust  seems  from  Goethe's  other 
works,  it  is  indispensable  to  them  all.  For  now  that  we 
have  at  last  come  to  Faust  we  may  point  out  a  fault  in 
Goethe's  manly  types  (Faust  excepted)  which  I  have  hith- 
erto passed  over  in  silence,  because  I  only  wished  to  men- 
tion it  at  a  time  when  I  could  explain  it  as  inevitable. 

In  the  contemplation  of  Goethe's  poetic  creations  we 
have  taken  as  our  fundamental  idea,  that  each  should  be 
interpreted  as  a  personal  confession,  —  the  transmutation 
of  his  real  life  into  poetry.  Hence  we  derive  the  right 
to  trace  back  especially  the  characters  of  his  women  into 
their  living  originals.  Such  an  idea  would  never  be  sug- 
gested with  regard  to  Homer's  Penelope,  or  the  women 
of  Sophocles  and  JSschylus,  and  still  less  even  with  those 
of  Moliere,  Shakspeare,  or  Schiller.  The  women  of  these 


496  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

poets  lack  wholly  the  intermixture  of  an  individual  ele- 
ment, which  makes  it  so  interesting  for  us  to  seek  for  the 
models  of  Goethe's  characters.  Shakspeare's  Juliet  has 
something  elementary  in  her  nature ;  one  would  never 
dream  of  wishing  to  decide  how  far  personal  fancy  for 
any  particular  woman  might  have  inspired  Shakspeare, 
although  as  has  been  said  by  Lessing,  "Love  himself 
seems  to  have  assisted  in  the  work." 

While  Goethe's  women  have  derived  from  this  peculi- 
arity the  advantage  of  such  fine  shades  of  distinction  as 
life  alone  can  give,  Goethe's  manly  types  suffer  a  disad- 
vantage from  the  fact  that  all  of  them  had  their  origin  in 
Goethe's  own  nature.  It  is  always  the  same  character  — 
indefinitely  outlined  —  returning  in  a  new  guise.  Goethe 
often  enough  spoke  of  himself,  —  so  to  say,  made  an  in- 
ventory of  his  qualities ;  and  for  the  most  part  in  his 
heroes  we  meet  with  a  certain  number  of  these  elements 
which  constituted  his  own  nature.  But  while  Goethe 
represented  in  his  heroes  now  this,  now  that  side  of  his 
nature,  they  all  have  something  fragmentary,  —  they  are 
never  quite  rounded  out.  They  exhibit  to  us  only  the 
one  side  which  is  accidentally  illuminated.  If  we  con- 
sider Werther,  Tasso,  Edward,  and  the  others  as  com- 
plete men,  we  find  that  the  poet  has  left  out  of  notice 
whole  sides  of  their  character.  We  should  ask  in  vain 
with  regard  to  Werther  or  Tasso,  for  instance,  by  what 
special  fate  their  natures  were  so  formed  as  to  admit  of 
their  acting  just  as  they  do  in  the  catastrophes  depicted 
in  the  romance  or  the  tragedy  ?  Only  the  strangest  ex- 
periences in  life  could  have  produced  this  immeasurable 
susceptibility.  But  what  were  they  ?  Only  through  Goethe 
himself  is  their  existence  to  be  explained.  All  these  figures 
come  to  life,  as  it  were,  only  at  the  moments  when  Goethe 
brings  them  before  us  in  action. 


EXCEPTIONAL  CHARACTER  OF  FAUST.    497 

If  however  we  understand  them  as  incarnations  of 
Goethe,  who  under  ever-varying  circumstances  constantly 
reappears,  they  all  lack  a  certain  robust  vitality  without 
which  a  perfect  man  is  inconceivable.  These  Goethean 
men  have  not  the  smell  of  actual  man's  flesh  ;  they  never 
eat  and  drink  before  our  eyes ;  examined  for  recruits 
they  would  prove  too  thin-skinned,  and  to  lack  firmness 
of  muscle. 

But  Goethe  himself  was  quite  otherwise.  He  could 
bear  fatigue  ;  retained  his  energy  and  elasticity  under  the 
most  trying  circumstances  both  by  sea  and  land  ;  had  a 
good  digestion  ;  could  be  harsh  if  it  was  necessary,  and 
stood  his  ground  against  any  man  when  manliness  was  in 
question.  Why  have  his  ideal  prototypes,  collectively 
and  individually,  this  touch  of  moonshiny  paleness,  while 
the  poet  himself  went  about  so  healthy  and  weather- 
tanned  ? 

With  all  these  characters  we  are  obliged  to  think  of 
Faust  as  their  invisible  counterpart.  Faust — whom  Goe- 
the never  laid  out  of  his  hands  so  long  as  he  breathed  — 
was  the  elder  brother  of  this  whole  company,  who  always 
received  beforehand  the  best  morsels,  and  was  responsible 
for  them  all. 

At  the  side  of  Werther,  Tasso,  Wilhelm,  Edward,  Fer- 
dinand, and  the  whole  series  Faust  stands  ever  invisible, 
and  asserts  his  birthright.  He  is  the  Crown  Prince  to 
whom  the  kingdom  descends;  the  others  are  later  born, 
and  must  be  satisfied  with  what  falls  to  their  share  by 
the  way.  Goethe  has  Faust  always  at  his  right  hand  : 
he  treats  the  others  according  to  his  pleasure,  and  allots 
to  them  only  their  legitimate  portions.  Goethe  himself 
stood  in  awe  of  Faust.  This  youngster  too  early  grew 
over  his  head,  and  proved  very  refractory.  For  long 
years  Goethe  would  not  meddle  with  him  at  all,  because 

32 


498  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETIIE. 

he  did  not  feel  himself  to  be  man  enough  to  bring  him  up. 
But  Faust  outlived  all  the  others,  and  remained  with  him 
after  the  others  had  long  passed  away.  He  represents  to 
Goethe  at  the  end  of  his  days  the  sum  of  his  entire  poeti- 
cal works.  He  alone  survives  the  master,  who  so  long 
as  he  lived  would  never  have  sent  him  out  into  the  world 
as  complete.  Faust  will  in  coming  periods  save  all  his 
weaker  younger  brethren  —  yes,  even  Goethe  himself — 
from  the  sea  of  oblivion,  as  Moses  saved  the  Israelites. 
For  that  the  time  may  come  when  Goethe's  works  in  their 
whole  extent  will  be  known  only  to  a  few  it  is  very  pos- 
sible to  imagine  ;  but  "  Faust"  will  be  an  exception.  The 
inheritors  of  the  earth  will  never  allow  "Faust"  to  be 
snatched  away  from  them  again. 

It  is  curious  to  observe  how  from  first  to  last  Goethe 
treated  this  poem  with  peculiar  respect.  I  said  just  now 
that  he  shrank  from  it  as  being  too  mighty  for  him.  We 
know  his  disinclination  to  declare  his  works  of  age.  He 
always  thinks  they  need  more  labor  bestowed  on  them ; 
nevertheless,  sooner  or  later,  he  makes  an  effort  to  bring 
this  hesitation,  outwardly  at  least,  to  an  end.  With  re- 
gard to  "  Faust,"  however,  he  could  never  conceive  that  it 
would  end. 

This  work  was  to  him  the  dearest  from  the  beginning ; 
and  yet  he  constantly  finds  excuses  for  postponing  it. 
From  time  to  time  he  reads  it  aloud,  but  all  the  applause 
it  excites  cannot  stimulate  him  to  finish  it.  This  contin- 
ues until  the  Italian  journey.  For  the  first  complete 
edition  of  his  works  he  hopes  now  to  master  the  "  Faust." 
He  packs  up  the  manuscript  and  works  occasionally  upon 
it ;  but  when  all  his  other  works  are  ready  he  has  done 
mere  nothing  to  this.  At  the  close  of  the  year  1787,  when 
he  thought  seriously  of  returning  home,  he  writes  to  the 
Duke  that  he  will  go  at  the  "  Faust  "  just  at  the  last.  "  In 


DIFFICULTY    OF   FINISHING    "  FAUST."          499 

order  to  finish  the  piece,"  he  says  farther  on  in  the  letter, 
"  I  must  be  specially  collected.  I  must  draw  a  magic  cir- 
cle around  me  ;  for  which  may  a  kindly  Fate  prepare  a 
favorable  opportunity ! " 

But  this  magic  circle  and  this  place  were  never  granted 
Goethe.  From  year  to  year  we  notice  his  fear  to  meddle 
with  the  papers.  The  fragment  published  in  1790  almost 
seems  like  a  further  attempt  to  conceal  the  poem  rather 
than  to  deliver  it  up.  Schiller  made  the  greatest  efforts 
to  incline  Goethe  to  the  work,  and  not  without  success ; 
but  again  and  again  Goethe  let  it  drop  from  his  hand. 
Even  what  in  1808  made  such  a  prodigious  sensation  was, 
to  Goethe,  only  a  fragment.  Finally  he  accustomed  him- 
self to  the  thought  that  so  long  as  he  lived  he  should 
continue  to  work  upon  it ;  and  he  probably  would  never 
have  allowed  what  was  published  after  his  death  to  have 
appeared  in  the  form  we  have  it,  if  his  life  had  been 
continued. 


500  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 


LECTURE  XXV. 

"  FAUST."  —  CONCLUSION. 

R  the  comprehension  of  "  Faust "  we  hold  it  neces- 
sary  above  all  things  to  regard  it  as  a  whole.  The 
first  and  second  part — prologue,  preliminary  scene,  and 
in  short  all  that  is  published  to-day  as  "  Faust "  —  must 
be  considered  as  a  unit.  Goethe  says  the  poem  rose  be- 
fore his  view  in  its  entirety  when  his  imagination  was 
first  impressed  with  it. 

Goethe  states  this  explicitly  in  a  letter  which  (like  the 
one  to  the  young  Grand  Duke  wherein  he  treats  of  Neces- 
sarianism)  is  peculiarly  solemn  ;  concisely  speaking,  also, 
it  may  be  said  to  have  been  the  last  thing  he  ever  wrote. 
He  composed  this  letter  to  "Wilhelm  von  Humboldt, 
March  17,  1832,  five  days  only  before  his  death.  It  con- 
tains his  last  confession,  —  the  simplest,  grandest,  fullest 
avowal  with  regard  to  himself  which  ever  flowed  from 
his  lips.  In  it  we  have  before  us  Goethe's  literary  tes- 
tament,—  yet  not  like  the  words  of  a  dying  man,  but 
almost  in  the  tone  of  one  who,  having  already  passed  be- 
yond the  limits  of  earthly  life,  turns  back,  with  one  last 
thought,  to  the  career  he  has  just  abandoned,  and  makes 
use  of  speech  again  that  he  may  give  an  account  of  his 
earthly  intentions. 

To  achieve  anything  of  this  nature  two  men  were 
needed,  —  the  one  who  communicates  it,  and  the  other 
who  draws  forth  such  a  communication.  It  was  for 


WILHELM    VON   HUMBOLDT    AS    A   CRITIC.       501 

Goethe  and  for  us  the  most  fortunate  dispensation,  that, 
in  the  latter  half  of  his  life,  a  man  like  Wilhelm  von 
Humboldt  was  in  friendly  intercourse  with  him.  Hum- 
boldt  may  be  called  the  prince  of  critics;  never  have 
great  poems  been  interpreted  by  a  contemporary  in  the 
way  that  Schiller  and  Goethe's  last  works  were  by  Wil- 
helm von  Humboldt.  It  was  owing  to  him,  to  begin  with 
the  least  important  of  his  efforts,  that  from  the  year  1790 
everything  that  Schiller  and  Goethe  produced  was  received 
and  understood  among  us  in  the  most  deserving  manner. 
Humboldt  prevented  August  Wilhelm  Schlegel — the  most 
brilliant  and  talented  of  all  the  critics  of  that  day,  but  at 
the  same  time  capricious  and  vain  to  such  a  degree  that 
his  judgment  was  not  to  be  relied  on  —  from  rising  to  be 
the  standard  critic.  More  valuable  was  Humboldt  as  the 
mediator  who  taught  the  German  savans  and  philologists 
to  appreciate  and  enjoy  the  works  of  Schiller  and  Goethe. 
Humboldt' s  greatest  achievement,  however,  so  far  as 
Schiller  and  Goethe  are  concerned,  was  in  assisting  them 
to  give  the  last  touch  of  perfection  to  their  style.  There 
are  no  subtilties  in  language  which  have  escaped  him. 
He  accepts  untiringly  all  that  is  new,  and  holds  fast  to 
the  old,  subjecting  it  to  ever  fresh  examination.  Only 
to  a  man  like  Humboldt  would  Goethe  have  so  fully 
given  his  last  thoughts  as  he  has  done  in  this  letter. 
I  here  quote  merely  what  is  of  special  interest  to  us. 

In  that  high  sense  in  which  Aristotle  makes  man  the 
subject  of  cold  contemplation  Goethe  considers  himself 
as,  so  to  say,  a  "  poetizing  creature,"  and  proceeds  ac- 
cordingly to  criticise  his  development.  He  says  :  — 

"  The  animals  are  taught  through  their  organs.  I  add  to 
this  :  men  likewise,  —  only  they  have  the  advantage  of  teach- 
ing their  organs  in  return. 

"  For  every  act  and  every  talent  something  inborn  is  de- 


502  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

manded  which  works  of  itself,  and,  bringing  with  it  uncon- 
sciously the  necessary  ability,  goes  on  working  straight 
ahead  ;  so  that  though  it  has  a  motive  power  of  its  own,  it 
may  yet  run  on  without  any  definite  aim  or  purpose.  The 
earlier  man  becomes  aware  that  there  is  a  profession,  that 
there  is  an  art,  which  helps  him  to  a  methodical  develop- 
ment of  his  natural  talents,  so  much  the  happier  will  he  be. 
Whatever  he  may  receive  from  without  will  not  endanger 
in  the  least  his  native  idiosyncrasy.  The  finest  genius  is 
that  which  absorbs  all  into  itself,  and  knows  how  to  appropri- 
ate all  without  doing  the  slightest  injury  to  its  distinctive 
tendency,  or  to  what  is  called  character. 

"  But  here  come  in  the  manifold  relations  between  the  con- 
scious and  the  unconscious.  Suppose  one  with  a  musical 
talent  has  an  important  score  to  prepare  :  consciousness  and 
unconsciousness  will  be  related  to  each  other  like  note  and 
envelope, —  a  simile  I  like  to  use.  The  organs  of  men,  by 
practice,  instruction,  reflection,  success  and  failure,  assist- 
ance and  opposition,  and  ever  again  reflection,  unconsciously 
unite  by  spontaneous  activity  what  has  been  acquired  with 
what  is  inborn. 

"  For  more  than  sixty  years  have  I  had  before  me  my 
youthful  conception  of  'Faust,' — the  whole  series  having 
been  from  the  first  clear  to  me,  though  not  in  all  their  details. 
I  have  always  quietly  kept  my  original  plan  in  view,  and 
have  worked  out,  singly,  those  scenes  which  happened  to 
interest  me  most ;  so  that  there  remained  gaps  in  the  second 
part,  only  to  be  bridged  over  by  investing  them  with  an  in- 
terest proportioned  to  the  rest.  Here  now,  indeed,  the 
great  difficulty  showed  itself,  which  was,  —  how  to  accom- 
plish, by  energy  and  resolution,  what  should  have  been  the 
voluntary  work  of  Nature.  It  would  truly  have  been  hard, 
however,  if  this  had  not  been  possible,  after  such  a  long, 
active,  thoughtful  life ;  and  I  do  not  allow  myself  to  fear  that 
a  distinction  will  be  made  between  the  old  and  the  new 
parts,  —  the  earlier  and  the  later  work,  —  all  of  which  we 
now  commit  to  the  gracious  reader's  future  judgment." 


WHEN  AND  HOW  "  FAUST  "  WAS  WRITTEN.     503 

This,  then,  is  his  testament  concerning  "Faust."  He 
recognizes  this  work  as  the  task  for  which  his  poetical 
talent  was  specially  fitted.  Goethe  express!}7  demands 
that  the  work  shall  be  considered  as  a  whole,  and  rejects 
any  critical  distinction  in  the  periods  of  its  growth. 

He  gives  in  this  letter  the  date  of  its  beginning  more 
than  sixty  years  earlier  than  1832,  —  therefore  in  1772. 
In  a  propitious  moment,  suddenly,  the  work  stood  before 
his  eyes !  It  was  at  the  close  of  his  student's  course, 
when  he  had  just  been  made  "  doctor  "  in  Strasburg,  and 
at  the  age  of  twenty-three. 

From  this  time  on  we  will  now  follow  the  work,  and 
we  shall  see  that  its  history  is  its  best  explanation  and 
interpretation. 

If  Goethe  says  the  whole  poem  rose  at  once  and  com- 
plete before  his  soul  in  1772,  he  does  not  betray  how 
much  of  it  was  at  that  time  written  down.  He  says, 
"  the  whole  series,  but  less  in  detail."  Are  the  additions 
which  the  published  work  gives  in  1808  chiefly  later  ad- 
ditions, and  has  all  contained  in  the  first  manuscript  of 
1790  been  printed  ?  We  may  conclude  so  from  Jacobi's 
casual  remarks,  but  these  are  not  wholly  clear.  Certainly 
the  edition  of  1790  contains  passages  which  the  manu- 
script of  1772  did  not  contain,  or  at  least  which  Goethe 
did  not  read  aloud  to  Jacobi.  Did  he  omit  these  passages 
at  that  time,  while  he  already  harbored  them  in  his  imagi- 
nation ?  "Were  the  gaps  so  important  of  which  Goethe 
writes  to  Humboldt  ?  Thus  we  come  to  the  question  as 
to  what  serviceable  material  Goethe  found  in  his  surround- 
ings and  in  his  imagination  in  1772.  How  wide  was  his 
horizon  at  that  time  ?  What  distinguishes  the  characters 
in  the  edition  of  1808  from  those  which  were  brought 
on  the  stage  in  the  fragment  of  1790 ;  and  what  from 
those  which  passed  through  his  imagination  in  1772? 


504  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

And,  finally,  has  a  new  light  been  shed  over  the  whole 
work,  changing  its  value,  through  the  last  additions  and 
conclusions  which  were  published  after  Goethe's  death  ? 
Or  had  these  very  last  ideas  also  been  revealed  to  his 
mind  as  early  as  1772  ? 

Let  us  imagine  that  Goethe  treated  "  Werther  "  as  he 
treated  "  Faust,"  and  instead  of  publishing  it  in  1793, 
and  only  revising  it  in  1786  for  the  complete  edition  of 
his  works,  had  left  it  lying  all  the  while  in  his  desk  and 
given  it  to  the  public  first  in  1786.  As  things  were, 
"  Werther "  lay  before  Goethe  at  that  time  as  a  uni- 
versally known  fact,  and  therefore  only  to  be  altered  with 
very  great  caution.  Nevertheless,  he  made  significant 
changes  and  additions,  with  the  avowed  purpose  of  giv- 
ing a  different  turn  to  the  course  of  the  romance  in  many 
of  its  finer  motives. 

What  would  Goethe  have  done*  had  "  Werther  "  re- 
mained imprinted  among  his  papers,  and  he  could  have 
proceeded  with  free  hand  to  make  the  alterations  ? 
Would  he  have  been  satisfied  with  those,  on  the  whole, 
very  modest  corrections  ? 

Goethe  would  either  have  been  obliged  to  leave  the 
romance  just  as  it  was,  and  then  it  would  have  seemed 
as  if  he  had  the  intention  to  represent  times  long  past, 
which  in  writing  the  romance  had  not  been  thought  of ; 
or  he  must  have  adapted  the  events,  conversations,  and 
letters  to  the  new  state  of  the  world.  In  this  case  the 
whole  composition  must  have  undergone  reconstruction. 
Therefore  we  ask  in  the  face  of  the  "  Faust  "  published 
in  1790,  and  further  of  the  "  Faust  "  published  in  1808, 
what  was  the  nature  of  the  manuscript  written  in  1772 
respecting  not  only  the  finer  shades  of  difference  but  also 
its  crude  form  ?  Were  organic  changes  made  ?  Have  we 
the  "  Faust "  in  the  same  words  as  those  read  by  Goethe 


FREDERIKA  THE  ORIGINAL  OF  GRETCHEN.      505 

• 

in  the  Frankfort  days  to  Jacobi,  Klopstock,  and  the 
Duke? 

To  answer  these  questions  we  will  examine  the  char- 
acters separately. 

Let  us  look,  first  of  all,  at  Gretchen. 

Goethe,  during  the  last  part  of  his  time  in  Strasburg 
when  "  Faust "  was  conceived,  had  in  his  soul  the  most 
painful  remorse  for  having  excited  a  passion  in  an  unsus- 
picious being,  and  then  faithlessly  deserted  her.  Without 
doubt  the  origin  of  Gretchen  is  to  be  found  in  Frederika 
of  Sesenheim.  No  suspicion  must  be  herewith  associated 
with  what  is  in  the  vulgar  sense  meant  by  seduction  ; 
but  in  an  ethical  sense  it  was  seduction  in  the  highest 
degree.  Goethe  could  not  but  feel  that  Frederika  after 
having  been  forsaken  in  this  way  was  widowed  for  ever. 
He  knew  what  he  had  stolen  and  what  he  had  destroyed. 
He  had  forced  himself  into  the  soul  of  a  young  maiden, 
had  encouraged  the  idea  that  a  tie  had  been  formed  be- 
tween them  which  was  eternal,  and  then  one  day  given 
her  to  understand :  "  And  now,  enough,  good-by ;  get 
over  it  as  best  you  can  !  "  Goethe  conceived  this  fright- 
ful cruelty  symbolically ;  his  untrammelled  poetic  imag- 
ination followed  out  the  love-affair  to  the  most  extreme 
consequences  it  admitted  of  in  reality.  In  the  artistic 
rendering  actual  seduction  must  be  introduced  to  make 
fully  palpable  what  the  guilt  might  have  been.  All  im- 
aginable consequences  must  be  represented ;  therefore 
was  the  crime  of  infanticide  brought  in.  Goethe  only 
needed  to  throw  the  reins  over  the  neck  of  his  fancy,  and 
the  way  from  Frederika  to  Gretchen  was  easily  found. 
It  was  not  even  necessary  that  Goethe  should  actually 
have  forsaken  Frederika ;  just  to  have  before  him  an 
image  of  his  own  faithlessness  was  enough  to  transform 
Frederika  into  Gretchen,  who  so  plainly  bears  traits  cor- 


506  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

responding  to  Frederika's.  We  feel  that  when  Goethe 
sketches  Frederika  herself  later  he  wishes  to  indicate  this 
analogy.  The  fascinating  pertness  of  manner  and  per- 
fectly confiding  nature  are  conspicuous  in  his  description 
of  Frederika  in  "  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit." 

These  traits  also  constitute  in  the  first  poetic  vision 
the  basis  of  Gretchen's  character  and  her  fate.  In  this 
therefore  nothing  might  or  could  be  changed.  All  future 
additions  and  omissions  could  jiot  alter  any  of  the  essen- 
tial lines  in  this  picture  of  Gretchen ;  the  few  scenes 
which  compose  the  fragment  of  1790  contain  the  idea  of 
Gretchen  as  perfectly  as  the  edition  of  1808,  and  in  the 
very  first  manuscript  it  must  have  been  the  same. 

But  Gretchen  in  her  glorified  form  as  she  appeared 
after  her  death  among  the  angels,  when  she  again  met 
Faust,  may  have  been  a  creation  of  later  years.  It  is 
possible  that  this  is  one  of  the  gaps  subsequently  filled 
up,  to  which  Goethe  alluded  in  his  letter  to  Humboldt ; 
yet  here  also  the  critic  must  proceed  with  great  cau- 
tion. Goethe,  as  we  know,  in  his  youth  was  very  fa- 
miliar with  the  religious  ideas  of  the  Mystics,  to  which, 
in  another  form,  he  returned  quite  naturally  in  his  old 
age.  So  that  this  final  rapturous  scene  is  quite  as  likely 
to  have  been  included  in  the  first  conception  as  to  have 
been  added  in  his  later  years.  For  if  Faust's  life  in  the 
first  plan  of  the  poem  is  brought  to  reconcilement,  which 
we  must  assume,  why  exclude  from  it  the  last  meeting 
with  Gretchen  ? 

And  now  let  us  confess  that  the  scenes  in  the  first  part 
of  "  Faust,"  published  in  1808,  where  Gretchen  appears 
(here  we  include  the  scenes  which  without  doubt  belong  to 
the  original  manuscript,  though  not  in  the  1790  edition), 
breathe  a  power  and  have  a  life-warmth  which  nothing 
else  written  by  Goethe  in  this  early  period  possesses. 


THE    CHARACTER   OF    MEPHISTOPHELES.         507 

Had  they  never  subsequently  been  printed,  which  indeed 
some  unlucky  accident  might  easily  have  prevented,  the 
best  specimen  of  the  fresh  poetic  power  of  the  young  Goe- 
the would  to-day  seem  to  us  to  be  wanting.  These  verses 
glow  with  a  fire  which  touches  us  more  directly  than  "  "Wer- 
ther  "  or  any  other  poems  belonging  to  the  first  epoch. 
Not  of  the  other  works  which  at  the  time  made  Goethe's 
fame,  but  of  "  Faust,"  we  think  to-day  when  we  read  of 
the  overwhelming  impression  he  made  on  all  who  became 
acquainted  with  him  in  his  youth  ;  and  yet  "  Faust "  was 
known  at  that  time  only  to  very  few.  This  youthful  fire 
made  the  influence  of  "Faust"  so  tremendous  on  the 
younger  generation  that  from  this  time  they  looked  upon 
Goethe  as  belonging  to  them ;  and  just  as  it  had  been 
after  the  appearance  of  "  Gotz  "  and  "  Werther,"  they 
expected  new  and  still  greater  works  of  him.  They  con- 
fessed themselves  at  once  outdone  and  vanquished  by  the 
newly-risen  hero. 

It  was  chiefly  owing  to  this  that  when  "  Elective  Affin- 
ities "  appeared  in  1809  it  was  seized  upon  with  such 
avidity  by  the  young  people,  among  whom  Goethe,  when 
he  wrote  the  novel,  had  least  thought  to  find  a  public.  It 
was  to  Ottilie's  advantage  that  she  now  appeared  as 
Gretchen's  elder  sister,  as  it  were,  in  company  with  whom 
she  outshone  all  Goethe's  other  heroines. 

Gretchen  has  ever  remained  the  same,  through  all  the 
phases  and  stages  of  the  poem,  but  of  Mephistopheles 
the  account  is  quite  different. 

Because  Goethe  identified  Merck  so  strikingly  and 
intentionally  with  Mephisto  it  has  been  usual  to  accept 
him  as  the  origin  of  the  character,  and  as  being  the  only 
person  who  suggested  it.  But  what  did  Goethe  know  of 
Merck  when  he  composed  the  "  Faust "  in  Strasburg ; 
and  how  without  Mephisto  would  the  drama  ever  have 


508  LIFE    AXD    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

been  conceivable  ?  We  must  seek  other  origin  for  this 
character. 

Goethe  was  a  perfectly  self-sustained  man  when  he  went 
to  Strasburg,  and  had  long  believed  himself  able  to  find 
the  right  path  without  guidance.  He  intended  to  study 
everything  in  turn, —  jurisprudence,  theology,  and  physics, 
just  as  they  are  enumerated  in  the  opening  of  "  Faust." 
He  was  accustomed  to  have  every  one  he  met  yield  to 
him,  or  at  least  treat  him  with  special  distinction  ;  and, 
having  been  thus  favored  by  fortune  for  so  many  years, 
he  really  thought  a  good  deal  of  himself. 

At  this  point  he  meets  Herder.  Concerning  Herder 
we  must  recapitulate  what  has  been  already  said. 

He  was  the  first  man  who  had  ever  compelled  Goethe 
to  make  the  advances.  He  takes  very  little  trouble  to  be 
gracious  to  him,  even  when  Goethe  humbles  himself  as  he 
had  never  done  before  to  any  one.  In  fact  Herder  does 
not  seem  to  care  for  Goethe  at  all;  snubs  him  and  subjects 
him  to  his  moods  and  whims.  He  needed  nothing  that 
Goethe  could  possibly  offer  him,  but  had  his  established 
view  of  the  world,  which  he  had  gained  by  his  own  expe- 
rience. He  opened  to  Goethe  mental  perspectives  which 
he  felt  were  vaster  than  any  at  which  he  could  have  ar- 
rived by  himself.  Herder  first  taught  Goethe  to  study 
history  from  a  universal  standpoint. 

And  all  this  he  did  with  an  almost  scornful  rejection 
of  Goethe's  gratitude.  Herder's  ideas  poured  forth  in  a 
torrent ;  they  were  at  the  command  of  every  one  who 
came  near  him.  But  no  one  who  stretched  out  his  hand 
to  receive  them  was  spared  the  abuse  which  was  wont 
to  accompany  his  costly  gifts. 

Now  it  is  just  this  that  makes  Mephisto's  character  so 
grand,  —  that  he  knows  everything,  not  only  the  bad,  but 
also  the  good,  the  great,  the  noble  ;  that  he  shows  every 


THE  GENESIS  OF  MEPHISTOPHELES.     509 

fact  to  have  long  existed  in  his  all-embracing  knowledge 
of  the  world ;  that  he  vastly  exceeds  Faust's  knowledge 
in  every  direction ;  that  he  discloses  to  him  the  secrets 
of  life,  shows  him  one  world  after  another,  spreads  out 
before  him  all  the  resources  of  humanity  for  both  earthly 
and  spiritual  enjoyment,  but  only  to  scoff  at  them  all, 
only  to  prove  that  good  and  bad,  great  and  small,  are 
identical,  and  the  whole  monstrous  sum  —  nothing. 

Of  course  Herder,  this  grand  positive  character,  did  not 
go  so  far ;  but  he  unconsciously  seduced  Goethe  to  this 
extreme.  It  was  this  which  alarmed  Goethe,  —  that  Her- 
der incessantly  jingled  the  gold  of  ideas  in  his  pocket, 
drew  out  handfuls  of  them  that  they  might  glisten  for  a 
moment  in  the  sunshine,  and  then  threw  them  aside  as 
worthless  coals.  Herder's  diabolical  peculiarity  was,  first, 
to  make  his  friends  disclose  to  him  their  innermost  soul ; 
and  then  to  annihilate  the  unsuspecting,  open  nature  of 
his  friends  before  their  very  eyes. 

In  Herder  Goethe  experienced  for  the  first  time  the 
frightful  power  of  the  cold,  disinterested,  but  merciless 
critic.  How  is  it  possible  ever  to  disengage  ourselves 
again  from  a  man  who  we  know  has  looked  us  through 
and  through,  and  seen  the  good  and  the  bad  without  any 
selfish  motive  for  his  examination  ?  This  explains  why 
Faust  instantly  submits  to  Mephisto,  and  signs  the  con- 
tract with  his  blood.  It  is  not  merely  for  the  sake  of  the 
promised  enjoyment,  but  from  the  feeling  that  he  was 
helplessly  given  over  to  this  intellectual  supremacy.  Me- 
phisto on  his  side  has  no  other  aim  but  to  make  Faust 
feel  this  power.  In  everything  human  he  submits  him- 
self to  Faust.  Faust  is  the  master,  Mephisto  the  slave ; 
Faust  enjoys,  Mephisto  willingly  panders  to  him  and  fur- 
nishes whatever  can  possibly  give  him  pleasure :  but  he 
holds  one  thing  ever  in  reserve,  —  the  power  to  prove  to 


510  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

Faust  at  last  that  all  was  not  worth  the  trouble.  I  re- 
peat, Herder  did  not  go  so  far,  but  his  teachings  incited 
Goethe  on.  As  in  Gretchen  is  realized  what  might  have 
become  of  Frederika,  so  Mephisto  shows  whither  Herder 
might  have  been  led  by  his  own  doctrines.  It  was 
Herder  who  first  taught  Goethe  to  exercise  his  native 
gift  of  marring  enjoyment  by  criticism,  and  in  the  very 
heat  of  passion  to  dream  of  desertion.  As  an  illustra- 
tion of  this  diabolical  habit  of  destroying  all  pleasure  in 
a  work  of  art  at  the  moment  when  it  afforded  the  purest 
enjoyment,  Goethe  describes  their  reading  together  the 
"  Vicar  of  Wakefield."  l 

Not  till  Herder  had  prepared  the  elements  out  of  which 
Mephisto  could  grow,  did  Goethe  meet  with  the  man  who 
supplied  the  wished-for  personality,  —  Merck.  We  have 
seen  how  often  Goethe  worked  in  this  way,  —  first,  to 
bear  in  his  imagination  only  the  conception  of  a  certain 
type  of  character,  and  then  to  wait  till  a  chance  meet- 
ing afforded  him  a  model  whose  portrait  he  might  copy. 
Mephisto  now  receives  personality  and  that  element  of 
immeasurable  grossness  which  distinguishes  him. 

Merck,  high  as  Goethe  placed  him,  did  not  by  any 
means  possess  the  positive  attributes  needed  by  a  being 
who  is  to  look  down  on  things  from  such  a  height  as 
Mephisto.  Merck's  criticisms  were  destructive,  never 
constructive.  Merck  is  only  the  spirit  of  negation,  who 
can  do  nothing  but  deny  because  he  lacks  creative  power. 
But  Mephisto,  whatever  Goethe  may  say  to  the  contrary, 
bears  a  whole  creation  within  him.  One  has  but  to  look 
narrowly  into  his  assertions  to  discover  that  his  negative 
criticisms  contain  a  very  positive  meaning.  Goethe,  as 
has  been  said,  denies  this  ;  nor  was  this  in  his  plan  :  but 
here  the  character  grew  beyond  Goethe's  intentions,  and 
1  See  "  Aus  Meinem  Leben."  —  Tr. 


DEVELOPMENT    OF   MEPHISTOPHELES.          511 

took  on  a  nobler  stature.  If  we  could  imagine  Mephisto 
as  taking  his  degree  at  a  university,  he  would  not  merely 
chaff  the  professors,  but  prove  to  them  at  the  same  time 
that  he  understood  more  than  all  of  them  together  of  the 
subjects  on  which  he  was  examined ;  that  he  was  per- 
fectly at  home  in  literature,  and  that  he  was  practically 
familiar  with  all  theories.  Merck  was  not  great  enough 
for  Mephisto' s  later  intellectual  scope.  » 

We  see  that  for  Mephisto  an  immeasurable  increase 
was  possible  in  the  manifestation  of  his  nature.  Not  so 
with  Gretchen.  All  the  experiences  Goethe  quietly  gath- 
ered by  himself,  or  through  his  friends,  or  from  the  world 
at  large,  he  laid  bare  to  Mephisto  as  the  counterpart  of 
his  own  mind,  and  to  be  unsparingly  criticised  by  him. 
In  all  society  Mephisto  accompanies  him,  reads  every 
book  with  him  looking  over  his  shoulder,  and,  as  Goethe's 
acquaintances  and  experiences  increase,  and  with  them 
his  capacity  to  strike  the  right  tone  in  every  grade  of  so- 
ciety, Mephisto  also  learns  with  him,  and  like  a  living 
reality  constantly  develops  new  traits.  The  aristocratic, 
self-possessed  tone  of  a  polished  man  of  the  world  comes 
gradually  into  the  character  ;  he  grows  more  and  more  re- 
fined and  elegant.  Out  of  the  caricature  of  the  musty  old 
Master  of  Arts  who  had  studied  the  profession  he  hated 
to  the  point  of  satiety,  as  which  he  probably  would  have 
been  introduced  to  us  in  1772,  Mephisto  by  degrees  de- 
velops into  a  caricature  of  a  brilliant  statesman  of  rank, 
who,  after  a  mistaken  career,  has  reluctantly  retired 
from  public  life,  and  pours  out  unmercifully  his  trench- 
ant satire  upon  all  things. 

A  circumstance  already  mentioned  helped  to  bring 
about  this  change.  Goethe  was  destined  to  witness  two 
great  evolutions,  —  the  former  in  the  18th  century,  when 
in  the  midst  of  tranquil  hopes  for  the  future  a  frightful 


512  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

insurrection  broke  forth ;  and,  secondly,  in  the  present 
century,  after  the  struggle  had  begun  in  Germany,  the 
transition  from  a  storm  of  national  enthusiasm  to  an  en- 
forced stagnation  brought  about  by  the  pressure  of  the 
Government  upon  the  people.  This  was  the  dulness 
which  made  him  say,  in  1820,  that  there  prevailed  among 
the  people  a  feeling  of  the  utter  worthlessness  of  the 
present.  Goethe  was  fundamentally  a  Liberal ;  but  he  not 
only  understood  the  reactionary  current  which  everywhere 
set  in  among  us  after  the  war  for  freedom,  but  felt  obliged 
to  recognize  and  sustain  it  as  legitimate.  To  oppose  it 
publicly  was  impossible  ;  but  equally  impossible  was  it  to 
suppress  the  criticism  which  recognized  these  political 
measures  as  mere  palliatives,  and  prophesied  to  him  with 
certainty  a  revolution  to  come.  For  this  double  role 
Mephisto  was  an  excellent  organ.  His  behavior  as  Faust's 
adjutant  at  the  court  of  the  Emperor  gives,  in  an  appar- 
ently inoffensive  form,  Goethe's  criticism  on  what  he  saw 
around  him.  Goethe  expresses  it  in  general  phrases,  but 
each  word  cuts  deeply.  With  Machiavellian  pitilessness 
he  scourges  existing  things  through  the  mouth  of  Mephis- 
to ;  and  yet.  no  one  could  reproach  him  for  his  verses. 

Of  course  this  phase  came  into  Mephisto's  character 
later ;  for  in  1772  Goethe  could  have  had  but  little  expe- 
rience in  this  direction. 

After  Gretchen  and  Mephisto  it  only  remains  for  us  to 
speak  of  Faust  himself ;  the  other  characters  and  appa- 
ritions in  the  drama  call  for  no  further  explanation.  Wag- 
ner the  Scholar,  Valentin,  Martha,  and  the  rest  are 
common  types,  about  whose  recognition  there  can  be  no 
doubt ;  while  the  allegorical  and  mythological  personages 
in  the  second  part  offer  difficulties  to  the  interpreter  only 
in  so  far  that  Goethe  himself  sometimes  lends  to  them  an 
enigmatical  form  by  making  them  say  and  do  things,  part 


FAUST   IS    THE    HERO    OF    "  FAUST."  513 

of  which  have  a  double  meaning,  and  part  are  incompre- 
hensible for  a  time ;  because  he  avowedly  had  intentions 
regarding  them  which  it  is  impossible  for  this  generation 
to  fathom.  Goethe  wished  to  say  many  things  which  he 
could  only  say  so  veiled  that  they  should  not  be  immedi- 
ately recognized ;  and  probably  had  before  his  mind  in  so 
doing  the  comprehension  of  a  future  more  distant  than 
ours.  In  Loeper's  edition  of  "  Faust "  I  find  what  is  ex- 
plainable explained  and  put  together  in  the  simplest  man- 
ner, so  as  to  afford  the  clearest  commentary  possible. 

The  all-important  figure  in  the  drama  is  he  whose 
name  it  bears. 

We  said  that  the  study  of  himself  in  which  Goethe  was 
constantly  absorbed  began  in  early  life.  Even  as  a  boy 
he  considered  and  treated  himself  objectively  ;  he  was 
born  with  a  two-fold  nature,  —  one  which  acted,  and  the 
other  which  in  the  midst  of  the  action  reflected  upon  it. 

Again,  in  Strasburghe  must,  through  this  self-criticism, 
have  seemed  to  himself  in  a  most  trying  state  of  discord. 
He  had  passed  through  the  first  stage  of  his  youth  ;  the 
taking  of  his  degree  was  soon  to  put  an  end  to  his  years 
of  study  ;  he  felt  the  insufficiency  of  his  own  knowledge, 
and  at  the  same  time,  also,  that  of  his  examiners.  He 
was  now  to  begin-  his  so-called  professional  career,  for 
which  he  felt  himself  in  no  wise  prepared.  Like  Faust, 
he  would  teach,  —  and  yet  believed  that  he  had  discovered 
that  what  he  had  received  as  well  as  what  lie  could  im- 
part was  but  a  mass  of  empty  formulas.  Whichever  way 
he  might  turn,  his  existence  seemed  to  contain  irrecon- 
cilable antagonisms.  On  one  side  he  was  surrounded  by 
perfectly  normal  conditions.  Belonging  to  a  good  and 
well-established  family  of  honorable  position,  he  had  en- 
joyed a  good  education,  had  been  trained  in  the  most  ex- 
cellent principles,  had  passed  successfully  through  the 

33 


514  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

laborious  study  of  a  profession,  and  acquired  extensive 
general  culture  ;  but,  as  an  offset  to  all  these  advantages, 
there  rankled  in  him  the  feeling  of  isolation  and  forlorn- 
ness  in  spite  of  his  wide  circle  of  acquaintances,  the 
doubt  whether  he  could  ever  endure  any  binding  con- 
ditions, and,  with  insatiable  scientific  curiosity,  the  re- 
proachful consciousness  of  superficiality.  Goethe  once 
confessed  in  his  old  age  that  he  had  never  opened  a  book 
without  imagining  before  he  had  read  one  page  that  he 
knew  it  all  better  than  the  author.  In  later  years  he  was 
able  to  reflect  upon  this  double  nature  of  which  he  was 
so  well  aware  more  composedly  than  in  early  life,  when 
this  discovery  agitated  and  surprised  him.  He  saw  that 
these  contradictions  formed  an  indelible  peculiarity  in  his 
nature.  However  strong  the  good  might  be  within  him, 
the  bad  presented  itself  at  the  same  time,  and  won  the 
upper  hand.  The  monstrous  question  before  him,  finally, 
was  whether  he  must  consider  the  bad  as  something  posi- 
tive, or  whether  it  was  to  be  thought  of  only  as  a  phantom 
which  at  the  day  of  judgment  would  collapse  into  nothing. 
The  latter  became  Goethe's  belief  ;  but  he  sought  for  cer- 
tainty. This  we  know  he  found  in  Spinoza's  theory  ;  and 
it  was  chiefly  this  that  attracted  him  to  Spinoza's  writings. 
This  is  the  special  problem  of  "  Faust."  Goethe  once 
said  he  could  imagine  he  had  committed  every  crime,  and 
recognized  in  himself  a  capacity  for  all  the  vices,  envy 
excepted.  This  should  be  embodied  in  "  Faust ;  "  and 
then,  when  at  last  the  problem  was  solved,  he  would  rep- 
resent how  all  this  earthly  rubbish  would  drop  away  like 
a  torment  overcome,  and  man  return  sanctified  to  the 
hands  of  his  Creator. 

To  these  struggles  and  problems  Goethe  sought  to  give 
a  symbolic  form ;  he  was  filled  with  a  longing  to  escape 
from  himself,  which  increased  to  such  a  degree  as  even  to 


SUBJECTIVE    ORIGIN   OF   FAUST.  515 

suggest  suicide.  In  Strasburg,  at  a  time  when  tins  feel- 
ing came  over  him  with  insupportable  power,  he  fell  in 
with  the  "  Old  Folk's  Comedy,"  which  contained  the  story 
of  Dr.  Faustus.  This  was  just  the  character  he  wanted.  A 
sudden  illumination  flashed  through  his  fancy.  All  that 
this  rough  play  contained  offered  itself  to  him  as  a  means 
of  disengaging  his  thoughts  from  himself,  and  giving 
them  form  and  expression  in  poetical  visions.  In  magic 
pictures  his  past,  his  present,  and  his  future  life  pass 
before  his  soul ;  all  takes  form,  —  the  puerile  scenes  of 
the  play  are  metamorphosed  into  parts  of  a  grand  drama 
full  of  high  symbolic  meaning.  His  tormenting  thoughts 
are  transferred  to  persons  who  suddenly  come  to  view 
like  very  old  acquaintances  who  until  now  have  been  hid- 
den as  it  were  in  some  enchanted  mountain,  from  which, 
released  by  an  earthquake,  they  suddenly  stand  before 
him,  and  are  now  dearer  to  him  than  his  nearest  relatives. 
He  burdens  these  souls  with  all  that  he  condemns  in 
himself  but  cannot  conquer,  while  his  imagination  shows 
him  at  the  same  time  his  feeling  of  indestructible  self- 
reliance  ;  and  the  incarnate  triumph  of  this  faith  in  the 
final  solution  of  the  drama  may  be  considered  as  the  gos- 
pel of  the  redemption  of  man  through  labor.  How  would 
it  be  possible  to  imagine  this  second  part  separated  from 
the  first  ?  The  conclusion  of  the  second  part  must  have 
originated  at  the  same  time  with  the  first,  —  the  mocking 
of  Mephisto,  and  the  rescue  of  Faust  from  his  clutches, 
which  suddenly  lose  all  power  to  hold  him.  Colossal 
earthly  achievements  make  this  escape  possible.  Faust 
wrests  from  the  sea  a  new  tract  of  country.  We  see 
before  us,  in  the  consummation  of  Faust's  life,  the  noblest 
glorification  of  human  endeavor. 

But  if  the  character  of  Mephisto  was  enhanced  by  de- 
grees during  Goethe's  life,  the  constant  reconstruction  of 


516  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

Faust  was  even  more  necessary.  How  comprehensible 
that  Goethe  could  never  make  up  his  mind  to  finish  the 
poem,  —  the  work  and  its  principal  character  being  fro:n 
their  very  nature  endless !  Only  after  his  own  life  on 
earth  was  finished  could  Faust  be  offered  as  a  complete 
being. 

We  see  that  Goethe  had  dedicated  to  Faust  his  highest 
poetic  power  in  preference  to  all  the  other  children  of  his 
imagination ;  and  this  fact  explains  a  certain  lack  of 
intrinsic  force  in  the  others.  We  have  to  take  Werther 
as  Werther  plus  Faust ;  Egmont  as  Egmont  plus  Faust ; 
and  so  on  through  the  whole  series,  —  and  we  do  this  un- 
consciously. It  is  no  artificial  calculation  ;  but  it  shows  us 
at  the  same  time,  concerning  Faust,  why  this  most  pow- 
erful of  all  Goethe's  creations,  viewed  externally,  is  in  a 
measure  formless  and  vague.  Faust's  personality  seems 
to  refuse  limitations  ;  he  feels,  enjoys,  and  rushes  through 
life  without  a  firm  footing  on  the  earth,  like  a  demon 
forced  for  a  time  to  wear  a  human  shape.  That  he  is 
subject  to  human  destiny  is  only  an  accident,  a  minor 
consideration  with  him.  He  flies  hither  and  thither, 
resting  nowhere  permanently,  —  time  and  space,  which 
we  are  all  compelled  to  take  into  account,  being  alike 
indifferent  to  him. 

This  arises,  as  a  necessary  consequence,  from  his  two- 
fold existence.  As  Goethe's  other  characters  demand  an 
invisible  complement,  so  Faust  needs  Goethe  himself  as 
his  visible  twin-brother.  Faust  represents  Goethe's  ac- 
tual life.  In  the  universality  of  Faust's  existence  Goethe 
became  capable  of  growing  old  with  him,  and  at  the  same 
time  of  remaining  eternally  young.  Until  his  very  last 
hours  Goethe  transfers  to  Faust  his  every  thought.  Faust 
is  the  incarnate  spirit  of  Goethe,  to  whom  no  range  is  too 
vast,  no  experience  impossible.  We  think  of  Faust  as 


LOCAL    COLOEING   IN    "FAUST."  517 

having  written  all  Goethe's  poems  and  all  his  scientific 
works.  What  Goethe  has  left  behind  in  scattered  verses 
and  thoughts  elicited  by  the  moment's  experience  might 
all  be  considered  as  paralipomena  to  the  "  Faust." 

We  have  now  given  the  genesis  of  this  character,  to- 
gether with  the  progressive  development  of  the  entire 
poem.  In  the  degree  in  which  Goethe's  spiritual  capacity 
increased  he  infused  new  power  into  this  drama.  In  old 
age  he  grew  dissatisfied  with  much  he  had  written  when 
young.  He  puts  into  verse  what  seems  to  him  in  its  pro- 
saic form  to  be  too  glaring.  Revisions  were  constantly 
going  on,  new  material  being  worked  in,  and  fresh  at- 
tempts made  to  round  off  the  composition.  He  once 
said  to  Schiller  that  his  work  was  like  a  heap  of  mush- 
rooms which  had  all  sprung  up  at  the  same  time,  and 
pressed  close  upon  one  another,  while  each  was  a  thing  in 
itself.  He  thus  characterizes  the  agglutinative  growth  of 
the  drama  whose  single  parts,  in  spite  of  their  individual- 
ity, are  still  to  be  recognized  as  members  of  the  same 
family.  Goethe  could  with  justice  say  in  his  last  letter, 
with  reference  to  this  work,  that  he  had  no  fear  of  an- 
alytic criticism. 

In  his  endeavor  to  give  to  this  poem  unity  of  coloring, 
the  local  element  came  in  to  help  him  in  the  happiest 
manner.  It  was  not  necessary  for  Goethe's  imagination 
to  travel  far  and  wide  in  1772 ;  he  only  needed  to  combine 
what  his  most  familiar  recollections  afforded  him,  and 
Faust's  and  Gretchen's  native  city  was  sketched.  In  this 
too  there  was  nothing  later  to  be  changed  or  corrected. 

Frankfort  offered  the  groundwork,  —  the  old  German 
Rei'chstadt,  walled  in  and  exclusive,  the  last  remnant  of 
whose  courts  and  alleys,  nooks,  passages,  and  corners, 
with  the  noise  and  smell  of  their  various  trades,  are,  to- 
day, fast  disappearing.  Our  bare  dwelling-houses  are  no 


518  LIFE   AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

longer  the  home-like  nests  of  that  time,  which  had  been 
warmed  by  the  presence  of  father,  grandfather,  and  great 
grandfather ;  every  scratch  on  whose  timbers  was  known 
and  reverenced, — the  very  sanctuaries  of  family  life.  In 
Goethe's  youth  all  this  was  in  its  prime,  —  the  mass 
of  narrow  houses  occupied  from  garret  to  cellar,  the 
churches  in  the  midst  of  them  centres  of  pomp  and 
splendor,  all  straining  upward  in  a  thousand  points  be- 
cause there  was  no  room  to  unfold  in  breadth.  Above 
lay  the  sun  on  roofs  and  chimneys,  while  below  the  air 
was  musty  and  dim,  even  at  high  noon.  There  were 
narrow  houses  at  the  back  with  little  gardens  and  walls, 
flowing  fountains  with  chattering  servant  girls,  massive 
gates  through  which  on  Sundays  and  holidays  the  crowd 
streamed  toward  the  open  country. 

Goethe  had  had  all  this  before  his  eyes  in  Frankfort, 
and  found  it  again  in  Leipsic  and  Strasburg.  Even  in 
Weimar  the  fountain  was  not  wanting  before  his  house  ; 
in  the  centre  of  the  little,  irregular,  three-cornered  Platz 
where  in  the  evening  the  maids  stood  to  gossip. 

All  this  gave  to  the  figures  in  the  drama  their  well 
defined  characteristic  accessories.  The  scenes  at  the 
court  of  the  Emperor  belong  to  the  same  historical  epoch 
with  the  city  scenes  of  the  first  act ;  and  also  the  very 
last  scenes  where  Faust  becomes  blind,  are  restricted  to 
a  certain  period,  a  limitation  which  seems  to  clash  with 
its  contents.  The  pictures  by  the  masters  of  the  Ren- 
aissance in  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries  fur- 
nish suitable  decorations  for  the  heavenly  scenes ;  and 
even  the  classic  parts  have  their  prototypes  in  the  concep- 
tion of  the  antique  as  it  was  familiar  to  the  masters  of 
the  sixteenth  century. 

This  external  scenic  element  comes  to-day  more  into 
the  foreground. 


THE    SCENIC    CAPACITIES    OF    "  FAUST."        519 

In  the  beginning  "  Faust  "  was  looked  upon  simply  as 
a  poem  :  only  the  spiritual  contents  seemed  of  importance, 
and  a  stage  for  the  drama  existed  but  in  imagination. 
Even  the  first  part  was  considered  so  little  suited  for  the 
actual  theatre  that  its  representation  was  not  effected  till 
1828.  For  the  celebration  of  Goethe's  eightieth  birthday 
the  daring  feat  was  undertaken,  while  it  did  not  come  into 
anybody's  head  that  the  second  part  could  be  represented, 
and  still  less  that  Goethe  had  ever  really  had  practical, 
attainable  stage  effects  in  view.  Goethe  alone  knew 
that  the  scenic  representation  of  the  whole  poem  was  a 
work  for  the  future.  He  occasionally  asserted  that  some 
time  a  Frenchman  would  come  who  would  make  a  "  spec- 
tacle "of  it ;  and  there  was  truth  in  his  joke.  A  French 
composer,  not  long  since,  transformed  "  Faust "  into  a 
grand  magic  opera ;  and  a  short  while  ago,  in  Leipsic, 
and  again  in  Weimar,  the  second  part,  as  a  spoken  drama, 
was  given.  Who  looks  at  the  work  seriously  will  see  that 
this  could  not  succeed  at  the  first  attempt ;  only  after 
many  essays  in  the  way  of  drama,  opera,  ballet,  and  spec- 
tacle will  the  right  method  of  representation  be  found 
out ;  and  only  then  will  it  appear  what  wonderfully  grand 
effects  for  the  stage  Goethe  had  intended,  visible  to"  his 
mind  alone,  and  the  understanding  of  which  he  commit- 
ted confidently  to  later  times.  I  doubt  not,  a  time  will 
come  when  representations  of  the  second  part  of  "  Faust " 
with  the  first  will  be  made  a  dramatic  national  festival. 
This  career  of  this  greatest  work  of  the  greatest  poet  of 
all  nations  and  times  has  just  begun,  and  only  the  lead- 
ing steps  have  been  taken  towards  bringing  to  light  the 
value  of  its  contents. 

The  explanation  and  interpretation  of  "  Faust "  is 
one  of  our  great  scientific  problems  :  the  work  contains 
beside  its  manifest  poetic  beauties  a  gigantic  treasure  of 


520  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

worldly  wisdom,  partly  in  such  an  enigmatical  form  as  to 
challenge  not  only  the  acuteness  of  the  ordinary  reader, 
but  also  the  ever-renewed  study  of  the  learned.  We  have 
a  special  literature  whose  aim  it  is  to  prove  from  "  Faust  " 
not  only  what  Goethe's  creed  was,  but  the  creed  of  his 
whole  century. 

"  Faust "  in  1808  made  at  once  the  impression  of  a  lit- 
erary revelation.  In  this  work,  in  "  Elective  Affinities," 
and  in  his  "Autobiography,"  which  followed  quickly,  a 
new  genius  seemed  to  have  arisen  in  familiar  form  authen- 
ticating himself  as  a  citizen  of  the  nineteenth  century.  As 
Goethe's  first  youthful  days  were  mirrored  in  "  Werther," 
to  which  his  admirers  who  had  been  young  with  him 
always  referred,  so  Goethe's  new  epoch  —  the  Goethe  of 
our  century  —  began  with  "  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit," 
with  "  Elective  Affinities,"  and  with  "  Faust,"  to  which 
his  earlier  writings  bear  only,  as  it  were,  a  pre-historic  re- 
lation. Goethe's  real  popularity  began  with  this  work, 
but  at  the  same  time  his  more  immediate  private  relations 
cease  to  be  of  moment  in  forming  our  judgment  of  him. 
Now  when  generation  after  generation,  and  all  the  intel- 
lectual life  of  Germany  revolves  about  him,  it  becomes 
quite  indifferent  with  whom  out  of  this  great  circle  he  hap- 
pened to  stand  in  special  connection.  Goethe  determined 
the  career  of  many  eminent  men  who  never  (or  at  most 
only  once  or  twice)  were  permitted  to  come  into  personal 
contact  with  him.  It  would  not  only  be  unjust,  but  false 
to  look  upon  the  circumstances  which  day  by  day  made 
the  character  of  his  life  in  the  narrow  Weimar  surround- 
ings as  the  framework  for  his  biography.  When  the 
sun  calls  forth  the  enchantment  of  spring,  the  fertility  of 
summer,  and  the  wealth  of  autumn,  thereby  benefiting  a 
whole  people,  it  is  not  the  most  important  consideration 
what  clouds  day  by  day  surrounded  the  great  luminary  at 


HIS    LAST   LITERARY   LABORS.  521 

its  rising  or  setting.     There  might  have  been  other  clouds, 
or  indeed  there  might  have  been  none. 

With  this  I  conclude  the  analysis  of  Goethe  in  these 
lectures. 

I  said  at  the  beginning  that  I  would  examine  his 
works  :  they  have  been  discussed. 

Besides  incessant  productions  of  all  kinds,  poetic  as 
well  as  scientific,  which  flowed  from  his  pen  so  steadily 
that  we  can  almost  follow  them  day  by  day,  another  of 
his  principal  works  was  the  "  Westostliche  Divan."  In 
this  collection,  together  with  new  poems  in  oriental  dress, 
is  a  memorial  of  his  friendship  for  Marianne  Willemer, 
whom  he  has  celebrated  in  them  as  Zuleika.  In  the  book 
of  "  Timur  "  on  the  other  hand,  Goethe  has  written  out 
his  final  thoughts  of  Napoleon,  his  greatness,  and  his  fall. 
The  "  Westostliche  Divan  "  is  of  special  importance  as 
showing  a  new  phase  of  Goethean  prosody,  in  which,  turn- 
ing away  from  antique  metres,  he  gains  new  freedom  in 
poetic  expression.  Once  more  hurrying  on  before  his  time, 
Goethe  has  struck  the  tone  in  which  Riickert,  Platen,  and 
Heine  wrote,  and  beyond  which  the  lyric  poetry  of  to-day 
has  not  risen. 

After  these  poems,  came  the  "  Italian  Journey,"  in 
1817,  as  his  last,  great,  finished  work.  Goethe  next 
devoted  himself  to  the  careful  preparation  of  a  newly- 
collected  edition  of  his  works,  as  well  as  to  that  of  many 
volumes  of  posthumous  works  which  he  did  not  wish 
to  have  published  till  he  had  retired  from  the  stage  of 
life. 

But  however  many  persons  knew  Goethe,  or  knew  of 
him,  he  yet  remained,  to  the  German  people,  up  to  the 
time  of  his  death,  a  half  mythical  being.  Besides  rela- 
tively small  fragments  of  his  correspondence  nothing  was 


522  LIFE    AND    TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

known  at  that  time  of  his  letters,  which  are  now  the 
most  excellent  source  of  historical  study.  For  even  those 
men  have  nearly  all  passed  away  whose  mental  develop- 
ment the  living  Goethe  influenced  in  his  latter  years. 
A  fresh  generation  has  arisen  who  never  saw  him  face 
to  face,  but  who  know  infinite  details  of  his  life,  and 
who  seek,  so  far  as  they  are  capable  of  doing,  to  under- 
stand his  work. 

If  we  take  the  last  twenty  years  of  Goethe's  life 
together,  according  to  the  knowledge  vouchsafed  us  to- 
day, we  find  in  a  time  of  political  disintegration  and 
gloomy  silence  in  public  life,  that  the  reverence  for  Goethe 
was  one  of  the  few  patriotic  sentiments  which  all  shared 
and  ventured  openly  to  acknowledge.  In  him  alone  Ger- 
many was  united.  This  was  Goethe's  political  influence 
in  its  highest  sense. 

He  was  the  luminous  point  to  which  every  eye  turned 
in  those  sad  days  which  dragged  along  between  1820  and 
1830,  seeming  as  if  they  would  never  end.  It  was  this 
consciousness  which  led  men  to  erect  statues  to  him 
during  his  lifetime.  Frankfort  began,  and  other  cities 
followed.  The  most  beautiful  among  them  in  point"  of 
conception  is*  the  colossal  figure  by  Steinhauser,  in  the 
Weimar  Museum  (placed  almost  out  of  sight),  executed 
according  to  the  sketch  which  is  in  Berlin,  designed  and 
modelled  by  Bettina.  Goethe  sits,  throned  like  Jupiter 
in  antique  dress,  one  hand  rests,  holding  a  wreath ;  the 
other  holds  a  lyre  raised  aloft,  on  the  strings  of  which  a 
child-like  genius  standing  between  his  knees  is  playing. 
It  is  a  curious  change  to  pass  from  this  classic  represen- 
tation, which  in  Goethe's  time  was  almost  a  matter  of 
course,  to  the  historic  costume,  which  after  his  death 
became  more  and  more  the  fashion.  Rietschel  made  the 
beginning  in  the  Weimar  double  statue.  The  one  in- 


HIS    LAST    PEACEFUL    DAYS    IN   WEIMAR.       523 

tended  for  Berlin  by  Schaper  represents  Goethe  as  a 
young  man  in  the  dress  of  the  last  century. 

But  another  memorial  to  him  still  remains  to  be  raised. 
It  is  incumbent  on  one  of  our  German  Universities  to 
publish  Goethe's  works  in  a  worthy  form.  Not  until  the 
hour  approaches  when  solicitude  for  the  German  lan- 
guage and  literature  has  become  the  interest  of  the  whole 
nation,  raising  it  above  spasmodic  efforts,  will  the  Ger- 
man people  derive  the  full  measure  of  benefit  from 
Goethe.  Then,  perhaps,  his  house  which  is  to-day  so 
drearily  closed,  in  whose  untrodden  rooms  his  collections 
are  awaiting  a  dubious  fate,  will  stand  open  and  accessi- 
ble to  all  the  world  as  in  the  days  when  Goethe  lived ; 
and  as  it  w^as  once  it  will  again  be  entered  a,s  a  sanctuary 
for  remembrance. 

Goethe's  house  in  his  last  years  became  a  place  of  pil- 
grimage. Weimar  itself  was  no  longer,  as  in  Schiller's 
time,  the  fostering  home  of  literary  activities  and  the 
focus  of  intrigues  and  personal  quarrels ;  it  had  become 
only  Goethe's  chosen  retreat,  where  close  beside  Carl 
August's  residence  he  peacefully  fulfilled  his  own  work. 
This  undisturbed  and  at  the  same  time  stimulating  life 
was  for  his  nature  a  special  gift  of  Providence.  He 
reigned  there  with  the  most  sovereign  right,  untroubled 
by  the  jealousy  of  any,  and  received  with  imperial  benev- 
olence all  who  knocked  at  his  door.  Weimar  now  formed 
the  friendly  boundary  between  North  and  South  Ger- 
many. A  certain  solemn  formality  had  impressed  itself 
upon  Goethe's  air  and  bearing.  He  sometimes  talked  in 
an  almost  constrained  way,  and  expressed  his  opinions  in 
self-chosen  phrases  in  a  lapidary  style  one  would  gladly 
have  exchanged  for  a  more  animated  one.  This  is  best 
shown  in  his  correspondence  with  Zelter,  the  Berlin  com- 
poser, for  whom  he  cherished  a  sincere  friendship. 


524  LIFE   AND   TIMES    OF    GOETHE. 

If  we  desire  a  true  picture  of  this  "Weimar  life  as  it  day 
by  day  glided  by,  through  his  last  ten  years,  we  shall 
specially  enjoy  reading  "  Eckermann's  Reminiscences," 
together  with  those  of  the  Chancellor  von  Miiller.  We 
realize,  as  if  we  had  been  eye-witnesses,  how  Goethe 
strove  above  all  things  to  the  very  last  to  keep  himself,  in 
contact  with  the  young.  He  often  said  that  this  was  the 
only  means  of  keeping  the  heart  young.  His  vitality 
was  inexhaustible.  Even  in  his  seventieth  year  a  young 
and  beautiful  maiden  kindled  in  him  a  passion  which  it 
cost  him  a  monstrous  effort  to  subdue ;  and  from  this 
struggle  arose  some  of  his  most  ardent  poems.  Goethe, 
while  enjoying  all  the  privileges  of  age,  seemed  merely 
hiding  the  powers  of  his  youth  and  not  to  have  lost  them. 
Finally  all  his  friends  were  dead,  —  the  Duke,  Frau  von 
Stein,  even  his  son,  had  gone  before  him.  But  it  did  not 
crush  him ;  to  live  was  to  him  pure  enjoyment.  Until 
his  very  last  days  spring  and  sunshine  always  brought  a 
fresh  rapture  to  his  soul,  and  tempted  him  to  explore  in 
all  directions  the  fields  and  woods  so  dear  to  him  ;  while 
the  recollections  of  old  friends  springing  up  in  his  path 
refreshed  him  instead  of  making  him  sad.  He  looked  for- 
ward to  each  new  day  with  serene  expectation  and  genu- 
ine human  curiosity  as  to  what  it  might  bring  forth. 

On  the  22d  of  March,  1832,  he  died. 

He  might  have  lived  on  like  the  patriarchs  of  the  Old 
Testament  for  decades.  Therefore  his  loss  came  at  last 
like  something  so  unexpected,  and  was  so  deeply  felt. 
It  seemed  impossible  that  a  man  in  the  midst  of  the  en- 
joyment of  his  best  powers  could  be  torn  away. 

The  next  morning  after  Goethe's  death  we  read  in 
Eckermann's  Diary :  — 

"  A  deep  longing  seized  me  to  look  upon  his  earthly  cov- 
ering once  more.  His  faithful  servant,  Friedrich,  unlocked 


GRAND  IN  LIFE  !    MAGNIFICENT  IN  DEATH  !     525 

for  me  the  chamber  where  they  had  laid  him.  Stretched 
upon  his  back  he  rested  like  a  sleeper.  Deep  peace  and  se- 
renity reigned  on  the  features  of  his  imposing  and  noble  face. 
The  mighty  brow  seemed  still  the  home  of  thought.  I 
wanted  a  lock  of  his  hair,  but  reverence  pi'evented  me  from 
cutting  it  off.  The  body  lay  naked,  covered  with  a  white 
cloth  ;  great  pieces  of  ice  were  about  it.  Friedrich  removed 
the  cloth.  I  was  astonished  at  the  godlike  magnificence  of 
his  frame  ;  the  breast  exceedingly  broad  and  arched  ;  the  arms 
and  legs  full,  soft,  and  muscular  ;  the  feet  delicate  and  of 
the  most  perfect  form ;  nowhere  on  the  whole  body  a  trace 
of  fat,  or  emaciation,  or  decay.  A  perfect  man  lay  in  great 
beauty  before  me,  and  the  rapture  I  felt  allowed  me  to  forget 
for  a  moment  that  the  immortal  spirit  had  quitted  such  a 
frame. 

"  I  laid  my  hand  upon  his  heart ;  all  was  still,  and  I  turned 
away  to  give  vent  to  my  suppressed  tears." 


CHRONOLOGICAL  TABLE. 


1474_1533.  Ariosto. 

1544-95.   Tasso. 

1564-1616.   Shakspeare. 

1600-81.   Calderon. 

1606-84.   Corneille. 

1622-73.   Moliere. 

1632-77.   Spinoza. 

1639-99.   Racine. 

1689.   Birth  of  Richardson. 

1694.       „      „   Voltaire. 

1700.       „      „  Gottsched. 

1710.       „      „   Johann  Kaspar  Goethe  (Goethe's  father). 

1712.  „      „  Frederick  the  Great,  and  Rousseau. 

1713.  „      „   Diderot. 
1716.       „      „   Gellert. 
1719.       „      „   Gleirn. 
1724.       „      „  Klopstock. 

1728.  „      „   Oliver  Goldsmith. 

1729.  „      „   Lessing. 

1730.  „      „   Hamann. 

1731.  „      „  Elizabeth  Textor,  Goethe's  mother. 
1733.       „      „   Wieland. 

1739.       „      „   Anna  Amalia  of  Saxe-Weimar. 

1741.  „      „   Lavater. 

1742.  „      „  Merck,  and  Frau  von  Stein. 

1743.  „      „  F.  H.  Jacobi. 

1744.  ,   Herder. 


528 


CHRONOLOGICAL    TABLE. 


1748.  The   first   Cantos  of   the  "Messiah"  are  published. 

Birth  of  Gottfr.  Aug.  Burger,  and  Christian  Stol- 
berg. 

1749.  Birth  of  Heinse. 

1749.  „      „   Goethe,  August  28. 

1750.  „      „   Cornelia  Goethe,  Fred.  Stolberg,  and  Caroline 
Flachsland. 

1751.  Birth  of  J.  H.  Voss. 

1754.  Restoration  of  the  house  of  Goethe's  father. 

1755.  Earthquake  at  Lisbon. 

1756.  Birth  of  Mozart  and  of  Kb'rner,  Schiller's  friend. 

1757.  „      „   Karl  August. 

1758.  „      „   Zelter. 

1759-61.  The  French  in  Frankfort.  Fraulein  von  Kletten- 
berg.  Birth  of  Schiller.  Death  of  Richardson. 

1763-65.  Coronation  of  Joseph  II.  "  Christ's  Descent  into 
Hell."  June  6, 1764,  birth  of  Christiane  Vulpius. 

1765-68.  Goethe  in  Leipsic.  Oct.  19,  1765.  Matriculation. 
"  The  Humors  of  the  Lover."  «  The  Guilty  Con- 
federates." Oeser.  Publication  of  Lessing's  Dra- 
maturgy. Picture-gallery  at  Dresden.  Hemor- 
rhage. Leaves  Leipsic,  August  28,  1768.  Death 
of  Gottsched.  Birth  of  Wilhelm  von  Humboldt, 
Charlotte  Schiller,  Aug.  Wilh.  Schlogel. 

1768-70.  Frankfort.  "New  Songs."  Breitkopf  und  Sohn, 
Leipsic,  1770.  Death  of  Gellert.  Birth  of  Cuvier, 
Alex,  von  Humboldt,  Napoleon,  Beethoven. 

1770-71.  Strasburg.  Arrival,  April  2,  1770.  Sesenheim : 
October,  1770.  August  6,  1771,  barrister's  certi- 
ficate. Leaves  Strasburg,  August  28,  1771. 
Birth  of  Hblderlin,  1770. 

1771-72.  Frankfort.  Birth  of  Walter  Scott,  Friedrich 
Schlegel,  and  Geoffroy  de  St.  Hilaire. 

1772.  Wetzlar.    Charlotte  Buff.   Jerusalem.   Journey  on  the 

Rhine.  Ehrenbreitenstein.  Mme. de Laroche.  "On 
German  Architecture."  "  Frankfort  Critical  Re- 
view." 

1773.  Publication  of  "Gotz   von   Berlichingen."    Cornelia 


CHEONOLOGICAL   TABLE.  529 

Goethe's  marriage  with  Schlosser.  The  brothers 
Stolberg. 

1774.  "  Pater  Brey."   «  Gods,  Heroes,  and  Wieland."  «  The 

fair  at  Plundersweilern."  "  Satyros."  Maximiliane 
de  Laroche's  marriage  with  Brentano.  "Faust." 
"  The  Sorrows  of  Werther."  "Clavigo."  Lavater's 
visit  at  Frankfort.  Journey  on  the  Rhine.  Pempel- 
fort.  Fred.  Jacobi.  "Prometheus,"  "Mahomet," 
"The  Wandering  Jew."  September:  publication 
of  "  Werther."  Klopstock  and  the  Weimar  princes 
in  Frankfort.  Death  of  Mile,  von  Klettenberg. 

1775.  Engagement  to  Lilli.    Journey  to  Switzerland  with 

the  Stolbergs.  "  Faust."  Sept.  22,  Charles  August 
invites  him  to  Weimar.  Oct.  3,  marriage  of  the 
Duke.  Nov.  7,  Goethe's  arrival  at  Weimar.  Wie- 
land. Frau  von  Stein. 

1776.  Goes  with  the  Duke  to  Leipsic.   Lenz  arrives  at  Wei- 

mar. Klopstock's  letter.  Councillor  of  Legation 
with  a  salary  of  1200  Th'ls.  Oct.  20,  Herder's  in- 
augural sermon.  Nov.  Lenzen's  "Asiniana"  (Es- 
elei),  "  Stella,"  and  "  Claudine  of  Villa-Bella."  Am- 
ateur-theatre. "Brother  and  Sister,"  "Proserpina." 
Goethe's  portrait  by  Kraus,  etching  by  Chodowiecki. 

1777.  Frau  von  Stein.     "Wilhelm  Meister."     Trip  to  the 

Harz  mountains.  Birth  of  Clemens  Brentano,  and 
Hein.  von  Kleist. 

1778.  "To  the  Moon."   Journey  to  Potsdam.   "The  Fish- 

er."  Death  of  Rousseau  and  Voltaire. 

1779.  March  28,  First  draft  of  the  "Iphigenia"  completed. 

April  6,  First  representation.  Frederick  the  Great  in 
camp  in  Silesia.  Ettersburg.  Jacobi's  "Wolde- 
mar."  Privy  Councillor.  Second  journey  to  Switz- 
erland, Sept.  12  to  Jan.  13,  1780.  Meeting  with 
Frederika  and  Lilli.  "  Song  of  the  Spirits  above 
the  Waters."  "Jery  and  Bately."  Karl's  School. 
Schiller.  May's  portrait  of  Goethe. 

1780.  "Letters    from    Switzerland,"   second    part.     "The 

Birds."   Works  on  "  Tasso."   Schiller's  "  Essay  on 
34 


530  CHRONOLOGICAL    TABLE. 

the  Mutual  Dependence  of  the  Animal  and  Spiritual 
Nature  of  Man."  Hard  official  duties  in  the  com- 
mission on  the  war. 

1781.  "Erlking."    "  Only  he  who  Longing  Knows."  Corona 

Schroter.  Beginning  of  "  Elpenor."  At  Dessau  and 
Gotha.  Anatomy  and  osteology.  Death  of  Leasing. 
Birth  of  Achim  von  Arnim.  Schiller's  "  Robbers." 

1782.  "Mieding's   Death."     Publication   of   "The   Fisher- 

maiden."  Geological  studies.  Death  of  Goethe's 
father.  Receives  a  diploma  of  nobility.  Schiller's 
flight  from  Stuttgart. 

1783.  "  Elpenor."   Fred.  Stein  visits  him.    Birth  of  Charles 

Frederic  of  Saxe-Weimar.  Second  trip  to  the  Ilnr/. 
"Ilmenau."  "Above  all  Heights  is  Peace."  On  the 
Brocken,  Gottingen.  "  The  Bard."  "  The  Harpist." 
"  Mignon."  Schiller's  "  Fiesko." 

1784.  On  the  origin  of  the  intermaxillary  bone.    "Ilmenau." 

Third  trip  to  the  Harz.  "Secrets."  "Jest,  Trick, 
and  Revenge."  Death  of  Diderot.  Marianne  von 
Willemer  born.  "  Cabal  and  Love." 

1785.  "  Examination  of  my  affairs."    "  What  was  wanting." 

With  Knebel  to  the  Fichtel  mountains.  Botanical 
studies,  also  osteological,  mineralogical,  and  geologi- 
cal ones.  Hamlet.  Karlsbad.  Schiller's  arrival  in 
Leipsic.  Birth  of  Bettina. 

1786.  Practice  in  Italian.    Revision  of  his  writings.   "Incli- 

nation." Death  of  Frederick  the  Great,  August  17. 
Goethe  leaves  Karlsbad,  Sept.  3.  Passage  of  the 
Brenner,  Sept.  9.  Venice,  Sept.  28  to  Oct.  14. 
Rome,  Oct.  29.  Iphigenia  in  Tauris  and  in  Delphi. 

1787.  22d  of  Febr.  to  Naples.   April  2  till  May  14,  Sicily. 

"Nausikaa."  Bust  by  Trippel,  portraits  by  Angelica 
Kauffmann,  and  Tischbein.  "Goethe's  Writings, 
with  illustrations."  Leipsic.  Goschen.  1787-90. 
4  vols.  Birth  of  Uhland.  Schiller's  "Don  Carlos." 
Heinse's  "  Ardinghello." 

1788.  "  Faust."   April  22.  Departure  from  Rome.   Florence. 

"Tasso."  June  18,  in  Weimar.  Sept.  7,  Meeting  with 


CHRONOLOGICAL    TABLE.  531 

Schiller.  Christiane  Vulpius.  "Roman  Elegies." 
Maurice  in  Weirnar.  "  Egmont "  is  published.  Ha- 
mann's  Death.  Birth  of  Rtickert. 

1789.  H.  Meyer.     "  Tasso  "  is  finished.     Dec.  25,  Birth  of 

Goethe's  son  August. 

1790.  Superintendence  of  the  government  offices  for  Science 

and  Art.  "Metamorphosis  of  Plants"  in  print. 
Optic  studies.  Torquato  Tasso.  "Fragments  of 
Faust"  published.  Journey  to  Venice.  Epigrams. 
Off  for  Silesia.  Giant  Mountains,  Galicia. 

1791.  Assumes  the  direction  of   the  court  theatre.    "Pro- 

logue" on  the  7th  of  May.  "Contributions  to 
Optics"  published.  Death  of  Merck  and  Mozart. 

1792.  Campaign  to  the  Champagne.     Valmy.     To  Pempel- 

fort  and  Miinster.  Princess  Gallitzin.  "Great- 
Cophta"  in  print.  Lips's  portrait  of  Goethe. 

1793.  "  The  Civic  General."     "  The  Restless."     "  Conversa- 

tions of  the  Emigrants."  "Reinecke  the  Fox." 
Optic  and  Art  studies  with  Meyer.  Siege  of  May- 
ence.  Death  of  Stein,  Master-of-Horse. 

1794.  Arrangement  with  Schiller.     Schiller's  letter  of  Aug. 

23.  Schiller's  fourteen  days'  visit  to  Goethe.  "  The 
Hours."  Correspondence  with  Schiller.  Publica- 
tion of  "  Reinecke  the  Fox."  Death  of  Burger. 

1795.  Jan.  25,  the  first  part  of  "  The  Hours."     Voss's  "  Lu- 

ise."  "Epigrams."  "Wilhelm  Meister,"  vols.  i. 
and  ii.  are  published.  Karlsbad. 

1796.  Translation  of  Benvenuto  Cellini,  for  "  The  Hours." 

Schiller's  treatment  of  "Egmont."  "Alexis  and 
Dora,"  "Wilhelm  Meister,"  vols.  iii.  and  iv.,  and 
"  The  Xenia,"  are  published.  Begins  "  Hermann 
and  Dorothea."  Platen  is  born. 

1797.  "  Hermann  and  Dorothea  "  as  Annual  for  1798.    Bal- 

lads. Work  on  "Faust."  Third  Swiss  journey. 
"  Euphrosyne."  "  Amyntas." 

1798.  "  Theory  of  Colors."   Discontinuance  of  "  The  Hours." 

Plan  for  "  Achillei's."  Publication  of  the  first  part 
of  "  The  PropyUiea."  Oct.  12,  Opening  of  the  new 


532  CHRONOLOGICAL   TABLE. 

Theatre.  Schiller's  "Prologue."  " Wallenstein's 
Camp." 

1799.  Rehearsals    of    the   Piccolomini,   and    Wallenstein's 

Death.  Translation  of  Voltaire's  "Mahomet." 
Schiller  settles  at  Weimar.  Birth  of  Heine. 

1800.  Work   on   "Faust."     "Helena."    "Palaeophron   and 

Neoterpe."  "Tancred,"  after  Voltaire.  "Propy- 
laea,"  last  part.  Schiller's  "  Wallenstein." 

1801.  "  Terrible  Disease."    Work  on  "  Faust."    Representa- 

tion of  "Tancred"  by  Schiller.  To  Pyrmont. 
Gottingen.  Art  Exhibition  at  Weimar.  Repre- 
sentation of  Lessing's  "  Nathan."  Death  of  Lavater. 
"  Maria  Stuart." 

1802.  Schiller's  "  Maid  of  Orleans,"  and  «  Turandot."   Fried- 

rich  Schlegel's  "Alarkos."  "  The  Natural  Daughter." 

1803.  Representation   of  the   first  part   of  "  The   Natural 

Daughter."  April  2.  Dismissal  of  Fichte.  New  Lit- 
erary Gazette  of  Jena  with  Eichstadt.  Mme.  de 
Stae'l  in  Weimar.  Death  of  Herder,  Gleim,  Klop- 
stock,  and  Heinse.  Schiller's  "  Bride  of  Messina." 
Kleist's  "  The  Family  Schroffenstein." 

1804.  Criticism  of  the  Poems  of  Voss.     "Gbtz  von  Ber- 

lichingen  "  arranged  for  the  stage.  Maria  Paulowna 
in  Weimar.  "  Wilhelm  Tell."  Brentano's  "  Ponce 
de  Leon." 

1805.  Schiller  dies,  May  9.     Will  complete  Schiller's  "De- 

metrius." Epilogue  to  "The  Lay  of  the  Bell." 
Visits  from  Wolf,  Fred.  Jaeobi,  Zelter,  Gall.  Fourth 
Harz  journey.  Publication  of  Rameau's  "Nephew" 
and  "  Winckelmann  and  his  Age." 

1806.  "Theory  of  Colors."     New  draft  of  «  Stella."     Karls- 

bad. Geological  and  morphological  labors.  "Mili- 
tary Campaigns."  Continued.  Marriage  with 
Christiane  Vulpius,  Oct.  19.  "  The  Youth's  Magic 
Horn." 

1807.  The  Duchess  Dowager  dies.    March.    Bettina's  Visit. 

Karlsbad.  Plan  to  "  Wilhelm  Meister's  Journeys." 
"  The  New  Melusine."  "  Dangerous  Wager."  "  Man 


CHRONOLOGICAL    TABLE.  533 

.  of  Fifty."  "The  Foolish  Pilgrim."  Hackert's 
Biography.  Minna  Herzlieb.  "  Elective  Affinities." 
Zacharias  Werner.  "Sonet-mania."  "Pandora's 
Return."  New  Edition  of  his  "Works,"  Cotta. 
Vols.  i.-iv. 

1808.  Karlsbad.     Mme.  Councillor  dies.    Audience  at  Na- 

poleon's. "  Works,"  vols.  v.-xii. ;  vol.  viii.  contains 
the  first  part  of  "Faust,"  "Pandora's  Return" 
published  in  the  periodical  "Prometheus." 

1809.  "  Elective  Affinities  "  published.  Plan  to  "  Fiction  and 

Truth." 

1810.  Masquerades.     "  Theory  of  Colors "  finished.     Karls- 

bad. "  Meister's  Journeys."  "  The  Nutbrown  Maid- 
en." Publication  of  "  Theory  of  Colors."  Portrait 
by  Kliigelgen.  Arnim's  "  Dolores." 

1811.  Calderon's  " The  Firm  Prince "  played.     "Hackert's 

Life  "  printed.  Sulpice  Boisseree  at  Weimar  with 
Cornelius's  drawings  to  the  Nibelungs,  and  his  own 
plans  for  the  Cathedral  of  Cologne.  Karlsbad. 
"  Romeo  and  Juliet "  adapted  for  the  stage.  Publi- 
cation of  the  first  part  of  "Fiction  and  Truth." 
Death  of  Kleist. 

1812.  Karlsbad.     Teplitz.     Writes  "The  Wager"  for  the 

Empress  of  Austria.  Beethoven.  Decides  to  ar- 
range "  Faust "  for  the  stage.  New  revision  of 
"  Egmont."  "  Fiction  and  Truth,"  second  part. 

1813.  Death   of  Wieland.    Oration   on    Wieland.    Distur- 

bances caused  by  the  war.  Teplitz.  "Shakspeare 
and  no  End."  Works  on  "  Fiction  and  Truth."  Re- 
turn to  Weimar  in  August.  Korner  killed,  August 
26.  Battle  of  Leipsic.  Commencement  of  the 
"  Westostliche  Divan." 

1814.  Westostliche   Divan  "founded."    Visit  from  Fr.  A. 

Wolf.  "  Epimenides."  Journey  to  the  surroundings 
of  the  Main,  Rhine,  and  Neckar.  Prepares  the 
"  Italian  Journey "  for  the  press.  Publication  of 
the  third  part  of  "  Fiction  and  Truth."  Freimund 
Reimar's  (Fr.  Riickert)  "  German  Poems." 


534  CHRONOLOGICAL   TABLE. 

1815.  New  edition  of  his  works.   Revision  of  the  "  Sicilian 

Journey."  March  30 :  Representation  in  Berlin  of 
"  Epimenides."  Frankfort  and  Wiesbaden.  Mari- 
anne von  Willemer.  Work  on  the  "Divan."  The 
hundred  days  of  Napoleon.  Culminating  period 
of  the  Weimar  Theatre.  Publication  of  Uhland's 
Poems.  Death  of  Caroline  Herder. 

1816.  June  6.     Death  of  Christiane.     Work   on  "Fiction 

and  Truth,"  and  the  "  Italian  Journey."  "  Art  and 
Antiquity,"  first  part. 

1817.  Goethe's  son  marries    Ottilie  von    Pogwisch.    "Dog 

of  Aubry."  Criticism  of  Byron's  "Manfred."  "Di- 
van." Art-studies.  Portrait  by  Jagemann. 

1819.  Revision  of  the  Yearly-and-Daily  Journals.   Publica- 

tion of  the  "  Divan."  Karlsbad.  Seventieth  Birth- 
day. Death  of  Fred.  Jacobi  and  Fred.  Stolberg. 

1820.  Karlsbad.   "  Wolkendiarium."    Work  on  "Meister's 

Journeys."  "Voss  vs.  Stolberg."  Ranch's  bust  of 
Goethe. 

1821.  Revision  of  "  Campaign  in  France."    "  Tame  Xenia." 

Occupied  on  Byron,  Scott,  Calderon,  Hindu  poetry. 
Publication  of  the  first  part  of  "  Meister's  Jour- 
neys." Napoleon  and  Christ.  Death  of  the  Stol- 
bergs. 

1823.  Eckermann.     "  To  Lord  Byron."     Ulrike  von  Levet- 

zow.     "Marienbad,  1823." 

1824.  Revision  of  the  "  Correspondence  with  Schiller  "  and 

the  "  Annals."  Byron's  "  Cain."  Death  of  Byron. 
"  Trilogy  of  Passion."  Death  of  Lotte  Schiller. 

1825.  Work  on  the  second  part  of  "  Faust."   New  revision 

of  "  Meister's  Journeys."  Revision  of  the  corre- 
spondence with  Zelter.  The  "Annals"  finished. 
Jubilee  of  Charles  August.  Goethe's  Jubilee. 

1826.  "Helena"  completed.   Revision  of  the  new  edition  of 

his  works  in  forty  volmnes.  Continuation  of  the 
revision  of  the  "  Journeys."  Study  of  Dante.  The 
porcelain  painter  Selbers  paints  Goethe  on  a  cup. 
August  29  :  Return  of  the  letters  to  Frau  von 


CHRONOLOGICAL    TABLE.  535 

Stein.  September  17 :  Unveiling  of  Dannecker's 
bust  of  Schiller.  "  While  contemplating  Schiller's 
Cranium."  "  Annals."  Story  of"  The  Child  and  the 
Lion."  Death  of  Voss.  Platen's  "The  Fateful 
Fork." 

1827.  Riemer.     Gottling,    Eckermann  aid  the  new  edition. 

Publication  of  vols.  i.-x.  The  fourth  volume  con- 
tains the  "  Helena."  Letter  from  Walter  Scott. 
Visit  from  Ludwig  of  Bavaria  on  the  28th  of 
August.  On  French,  Czech,  Serbian,  Chinese,  and 
German  Poetry.  Work  on  "Faust"  and  on  "Meis- 
ter's  Journeys."  Frau  von  Stein  dies  January  6. 
Death  of  Beethoven. 

1828.  Death  of  Carl  August.     Vols.  xi.-xx.  of  the  "  Works  " 

are  published.  Work  on  "  Faust "  and  "  Meister's 
Journeys."  Seventieth  birthday  of  Zelter.  "  Cor- 
respondence between  Schiller  and  Goethe,"  Parts  I. 
and  II.  in  print.  Portrait  of  Goethe  by  Stieler. 
Death  of  Lotte  Kestner. 

1829.  Completion  of  "  Meister's  Journeys  "  and  "  My  Second 

Residence  at  Rome."  Soret  translates  "  The  Meta- 
morphosis of  Plants."  Publication  of  "  The  Cor- 
respondence with  Schiller,"  Part  III.,  and  vols. 
xx.-xxx.  of  "The  Works."  Paganini,  Zelter  in 
Weimar.  Work  on  "  Faust."  The  sculptor  David 
makes  a  model  of  his  bust  at  Weimar.  Death  of 
Fr.  Schlegel. 

1830.  Death  of  the  Grand-duchess  Louise.   In  "Fiction  and 

Truth  "description  of  "the  most  wretched,  sweet- 
est year  of  my  life."  Felix  Mendelssohn  in  Weimar. 
"Classical  Walpurgisnight."  French  Revolution  of 
July  ;  controversy  between  Cuvier  and  Geoffroy  de 
St.  Hilaire.  Publication  of  "The  Works,"  vols.  xxxi. 
-xl.  August  von  Goethe  dies  at  Rome  on  the 
28th  of  October. 

1831.  New  revision   of   "The   Metamorphosis   of  Plants." 

Completion  of  "  Faust,"  July  20.  David  sends 
from  Paris  the  bust  of  Goethe  in  marble ;  unveil- 


536  CHRONOLOGICAL    TABLE. 

ing  of  the  same,  August  28.  Publication  of  Part 
IV.  "Fiction  and  Truth."  Disposition  of  his  ef- 
fects. Death  of  Achim  von  Arnim. 

1832.  Death  of  Cuvier.  "On  plastic  Anatomy."  On  the 
"  Principes  de  philosophic  Zoologique,  par  Geoffroy 
de  S't.  Hilaire."  "  On  the  Rainbow."  On  the  opera 
"  The  Women  of  Athens."  Portrait  by  Schwerclge- 
burth.  Death  of  Zelter  and  Walter  Scott.  Goethe's 
last  letter  of  March  17.  Commencement  of  the  dis- 
ease, March  16.  He  passes  away  on  the  22d  of 
March,  at  half-past  eleven  in  the  forenoon.  Post- 
mortem outline  by  Preller. 

1832-34.  Publication  of  Goethe's  Posthumous  Works,  15 
vols. 

1835.  "  Letters  to  a  Child. "    Death  of  Platen. 

1836,  1837.     Publication   of   Goethe's   Poetical  and   Prose 

Works,  2  vols. 

1842.  Publication  of  Goethe's  Posthumous  Works,  5  vols. 

Death  of  Clemens  Brentano. 

1843.  Death  of  Holderlin. 

1844.  Goethe  Monument  by  Schwanthaler,  at  Frankfort. 

1845.  Death  of  A.  W.  Schlegel. 

1852.   Goethe  Statue  by  Steinhauser  after  Bettina's  sketch. 

1856.  Death  of  Heine. 

1857.  Unveiling  of  the  Goethe-Schiller  Monument  by  Riet- 

schel  at  Weimar. 

1859.  Death  of  Bettina. 

1860.  Death  of  Marianne  von  Willemer. 
1862.  Death  of  Uhland. 

1866.   Death  of  Ruckert. 

1872.   Death  of  Goethe's  daughter-in-law. 

1880.   Unveiling  of  the  Goethe  Monument  at  Berlin. 


INDEX. 


Academy  of  Sciences  at  Erfurt,  241 . 

Academy,  an,  404. 

Academic  life  of  Goethe  at  Rome, 
350. 

Accessible  and  inaccessible,  the,  in 
nature,  450. 

Achilles,  16,  492,  493. 

Achilleis,  427,  445. 

Actors,  Italian,  91. 

"  Adrastea,"  by  Herder,  406. 

Adultery,  252. 

uEschylus,  424  ;  his  female  charac- 
ters, 495. 

Agassiz  ascribes  to  Goethe  his  first 
thought  about  the  glacial  period, 
449. 

"  Agnes  von  Lilien,"  novel  by  Caro- 
line Wolzogen,  attributed  to 
Goethe,  402. 

Aim  of  humanity,  194. 

Aja,  Frau,  nickname  of  Goethe's 
mother,  221. 

Albani,  Cardinal,  314. 

Albert  in  "Werther,"  467. 

Alcibiades  as  prince  of  fable  com- 
pared to  Caesar,  305. 

Alexander  the  Great,  304. 

"Alexis  and  Dora,"  427. 

Allegorical  and  mythological  per- 
sonages in  the  second  part  of 
"Faust,"  510. 

"Allwill,"  185;  "  Allwill's  collec- 
tion of  letters"  (1774),  189  ;  Ju- 
lian Schmidt  on  "Allwill,"  ibid. 

All  wine  in  Jacobi's  "Woldeinar," 
190. 


Alps,  the,  as  represented  by  Goethe, 
297. 

Alsace,  60  et  seq.,  261 ;  Alsatian  sol- 
diers, 39  ;  relation  of  Alsace  to 
Germany,  39. 

Amalia,  Duchess  of  Saxe-Weimar, 
226,  234  et  seq.,  325,  390  ;  her 
portraits,  238  ;  intercourse  with 
Wieland,  238. 

America,  232,  311  ;  separation  from 
England,  485  ;  colonization,  303. 

Ancient  conception  of  the  universe, 
451  ;  poesy,  422  ;  prose  as  exam- 
ple for  the  Germans,  431 ;  the  op- 
era and  the  drama,  284. 

Anemones  in  the  plains  surround- 
ing the  Roman  villas,  431.  • 

Antichrist,  314. 

Antigone,  462 ;  comparison  with 
Gretchen,  493. 

Antiques  in  Germany  in  Goethe's 
time,  315. 

Antonio  in  "Tasso,"  330. 

"  Ardinghello,"  by  Heinse,  374. 

Ariosto,  91,  150. 

Aristotle,  305 ;  his  conception  of 
the  universe,  454. 

Army,  popular  among  the  people, 
197  et  seq. 

Art,  502  ;  art  and  poetry  with  the 
Romans,  309. 

Artistic  moderation  of  the  antique 
poets,  426. 

Art-Meyer  (Kunst- Meyer),  388, 
410. 

"Art-pope,"  Goethe  called,  14. 


538 


INDEX. 


Asiatics  on  European  soil,  303. 

Asia  in  the  XVIIIth  century  the 
Arcadia  of  authors,  241. 

Aspersion  of  Goethe  in  political  re- 
lations, 490. 

Attic  dialect,  430. 

Augsburger  Allgemeine  Zeitung, 
1793  (Augsburg  Public  Gazette), 
393,  408. 

Aureae  arces  Romoe,  309. 

Austria,  483. 

Bad,    the,    in    Spinoza's  writings, 

514. 

Balloon,  the  first,  456. 
Bancroft,  225. 
"  Banquet "  of  Plato,  430. 
Basedow  and  Lavater,  180  el  seq. 
Batsch  at  Jena,  395. 
Battle  of  Jena,  477. 
Beaulieu-Marconnay,  Count  of,  on 

Anna  Amalia,  Carl  August,  and 

Minister  von  Fritsch,  234  et  scq.t 

245. 
Beaumarchais,  Marie,  in  "  Clavigo," 

73. 

Beautiful,  the,  as  the  aim  of  man- 
kind, 200. 

Belluomo  troupe,  390. 
Belvedere,  near  Weimar,  262. 
Bembo,  211. 
Berlin,  32,   488  ;  Goethe  on,  314  ; 

Berlin  and  Rome,  319  ;   museum 

at,  186  ;  University,  477. 
Bernhard  of  Weimar,  191. 
Bettina,  132,  470  ;  her  sketch  for 

the  Goethe  statue  in  the  museum 

at  Weimar,  522. 
Bible,  the,  in  the  XVIIIth  century, 

197. 

Bigamy,  in  Goethe's  "  Stella,"  214. 
Bodmer,  240. 
Boisseree,  186  ;  Goethe  speaks  with 

Boisseree  about  Lilli,  1815,  225, 

230. 

Bologna,  300. 
Book  drama  in  Germany,  90. 


Brackenburg,  370. 

"  Braut  von  Messina,"  418. 

Brentano,  Clemens,  129. 

Brentano,  merchant  at  Frankfort, 
138. 

Breeze,  among  the  Lindens  in 
"  Werther,"  358. 

Breeze,  among  the  oaks  in  "Gotz," 
358. 

"  Bride  of  Corinth,"  445. 

Brion  Family,  61,  69. 

Brion,  Frederika,  57  et  seq.,  113,119, 
217  et  seq.,  250,  506  et  seq.; 
Goethe's  grief  about  Frederika, 
87  ;  correspondence  with  Goethe, 
66,  70  ;  first  appearance,  62  ;  in 
Strasburg,  66 ;  Frederika  and 
Alsace,  261 ;  Goethe's  Frederika 
and  the  genuine  Frederika,  57  et 
seq. ;  compared  with  Frau  von 
Stein,  258. 

Brother  and  Sister,  the,  288. 

Buff,  Amtmann,  118. 

Burkhardt,  Dr.,  at  Weimar,  248, 
324. 

Busts,  as  historical  material,  173. 

Byron,  Lord,  392,  418. 

Byron,  Lord,  the  hero  of  Richard- 
son's novels,  151. 

Caesar  in  the  German  Congress,  493. 
Cagliostro,  106. 
Cakleron,  91. 
Campaign  of  1792,  390. 
Cannonade  of  Valmy,  391. 
Cantata  for  Gluck's  niece,   286  et 

seq.,  329. 

Carriers  of  human  culture,  194. 
Cathedral  of  Cologne,  186. 
Catullus,  339. 
Celts,   the,    emigrate  into   Europe, 

195. 
Ceremonial    observances    of    aged 

men,  460. 
Carl  August,  235  et  seq.,  264,  389 

ct  seq.,  500,  524;   his  iron  will, 

274  ;    his   feeling  of    an    excess 


INDEX. 


539 


of  strength,  268 ;  his  greatness, 
268  ;  in  political  affairs,  480 ; 
his  letters  to  Goethe  written  from 
below  to  one  above  him,  264 ; 
Goethe's  "most  gracious  sover- 
eign," 264  ;  after  Goethe's  Italian 
journey,  353  etseq. ;  takes  control 
of  the  government  1775,  226  ; 
correspondence  between  him  and 
Goethe  1775-1828,  265;  culti- 
vates with  Goethe  the  park  at 
Weimar,  261 ;  Carl  August  and 
"Tasso,"  331  ;  Carl  August  and 
von  Fritsch,  245 ;  his  death, 
460. 

Charlemagne,  contrasted  with  Faust, 
492. 

"  Charles's  Efforts  and  Hin- 
drances," 440. 

"Carlos,  Don,"  1785,  put  on  the 
stage  by  Goethe,  394. 

Characters  in  "  Faust,"  505. 

Charlotte  in  the  "Elective  Affini- 
ties," 464  et  seq. 

China,  in  German  Literature,  241. 

Chinese,  the,  the  great  and  just  na- 
tion in  the  XVIIIth  century, 
241. 

Christianity,  197;  Christianity  and 
modern  thought,  455  ;  Christian- 
ity and  the  creation  of  the  world, 
454. 

Christiane  Vulpius,  335  et  seq.,  389 
et  seq.  ;  her  eccentricities,  341  ; 
in  the  "Roman  Elegies,"  338, 
340  ;  foster-sister  of  the  princess- 
es in  "Tasso,"  340  ;  Christiane 
and  the  ladies  of  Weimar,  403  ; 
her  death,  1816,  340. 

Cicero,  his  periods,  177. 

Cid,  the,  492. 

"Cid,"  Corneille's,  157. 

Cinquecento,  Italy  of  the,  332. 

Citizen's  estate,  its  use  through  the 
example  of  Fnmce,  483. 

Clara,  in  "Egmont"  (Clarchen),  16, 
277,  370,  479. 


"  Claudine  of  Villabella,"  163,  216, 

327. 

"Clavigo,"  18,  50,  73,  163,  362. 
Clergy,  the  European,  312. 
Clerical  language  in  the  XVIIIth 

century,  197. 

Cologne,  129,  182,  186,  314. 
Colors,  theory  of,  391,  449  et  seq. 
Comedie  larmoyante,  50,  93. 
Conclusion   of   European   History, 

1850,  480. 

"Confessions,  The, "of  Rousseau,  25. 
Confession,  Goethe's  last,  500. 
Connection  of  all  phenomena,  453. 
Conscious  and  the  unconscious,  502. 
Consecration  to  Psyche,  87. 
Constantin,  Prince  of  Saxe-Weimar, 

226,  235. 
Continuation   of  and  controversial 

writings  about  "  Sorrows  of  Wer- 

ther,"  165. 

"Contributions  to  Optics,"  391. 
Corneille,  32,  93   et  seq.,  157,  165, 

264  ;  his  heroes,  95;  his  "Men- 

teur,"  35,  98. 
Corpus  Juris,  310. 
Correct  versification  in  itself,  433. 
Costumes  for  antique  plays  in  the 

XVIIIth  century,  295. 
Cotta,     359,     412;     Cotta    makes 

Goethe's    acquaintance    through 

Schiller,  408. 
Cotta,  Baron  von,  393. 
Council,  Goethe  begs  for  relief  in 

the,  278. 
"Countess,  Swedish,  The,"  of  Gel- 

lert,  33. 

Court  Theatre,  the,  1791,  390. 
Creon,  462. 
Crime,  514. 

Criticism  of  the  Gospels,  199. 
Cuvier,  489. 

Dannecker,  173. 
Dante,  4,  157  et  seq.,  352,  424. 
Dante  for  the  Romanic  world  what 
Homer  was  forthat  of  Greece,  310. 


540 


INDEX. 


Darmstadt,  234  ;  Darmstadt,  friend- 
ships, 117  ;  society  in  1772,  86. 

Darwin,  448. 

Death  of  the  child  in  the  "Elective 
Affinities"  related  by  Goethe  in 
breathless  sentences,  468. 

"  Demetrius,"  by  Schiller,  418,  442, 
478. 

Demon,  206;  Demoniac  powers, 
469. 

Descartes,  the  teacher  of  Spinoza, 
202  et  seq. 

Descriptions  by  Goethe,  358. 

Desor,  on  the  motion  of  Glaciers, 
204. 

Dialect,  expression  of  feelings  void 
of  —  required  in  the  "  Iphigenia," 
293. 

Dialogues  and  Duets,  285. 

Diaries  of  Goethe,  20,  70. 

Diary  of  Ottilie,  468. 

"Dichtung  und  Wahrheit,"  22 
et  seq.,  55,  67,  82,  110,  128,  132, 
168,  180,  187,  506,  520  ;  con- 
cluded with  Goethe's  arrival  at 
Weimar,  247  ;  on  Lilli,  217. 

Didactic  purpose  of  the  "  Nouvelle 
Heloise,"  156. 

Diderot,  50  et  seq. ;  in  Germany, 
93;  Diderot  and  the  English 
drama,  151. 

Dido,  the  subject  of  a  tragedy  by 
Frau  von  Stein,  256. 

Doctrine  of  Fatalism,  461. 

Dog  on  the  stage,  265. 

Dorothea,  16,  435  etseq.,  494. 

Drama,  148 ;  in  connection  with 
literature,  285. 

Drama,  the  German,  in  the  XVIIIth 
century,  94  ;  Trifles  by  Goethe, 
390. 

Dramatizations  of  "  Sorrows  of  Wer- 
ther,"  164. 

Dressing-gown  of  the  Schiller  stat- 
ues, 404  et  seq. 

Dumas,  Ales.,  translates  "Hamlet," 
58. 


"Dnmme  Jungen  "  (silly  boys)  of 
1772,  211. 

Diintzer,  216,  250,  385 ;  on  Goethe's 
official  activity,  248  ;  on  the  three 
oldest  arrangements  of  "  Iphige- 
nia," 295. 

Diisseldorf,  129,  184. 

Earliest  songs  of  Goethe,  35. 

Eckermann,  84,  211,  328,  414,  et 
seq,  ;  at  Goethe's  funeral,  524. 

Ecclesiastical  States,  480. 

Ecclesiastical  education,  198. 

"  Economy  of  Nature,"  461. 

Education,  modern,  of  girls,  401. 

Edward,  in  the  "Elective  Affini- 
ties," 464  et  seq. ;  as  compared 
to  "Faust,"  497. 

"Egmont,"  16,  18,  263,  369  et  seq., 
385,  391,  contains  Goethe's  pecu- 
liar creed,  479 ;  the  Regent  in, 
370;  Egmont  plus  Faust,  516; 
arranged  by  Schiller,  407. 

Ehrenbreitenstein,  130,  181. 

Einhardt,  91. 

"  Elective  Affinities,"  the  plot  dat- 
ing before  the  commencement  of 
the  work,  470. 

"  Elective  Affinities,"  444,  462,  520; 
publication  of  the  "  Elective  Af- 
finities," 1809,  507  ;  why  it  made 
a  confused  impression,  474;  a 
tragedy  in  the  guise  of  a  narra- 
tion, 473. 

Electra,  in  the  "Iphigenia,"  300. 

Elizabeth,  in  "Gb'tz,"  162;  in 
"Marie  Stuart,"  479. 

Emerson,  387. 

"Emile"  of  Rousseau,  111,  152,  212. 

Emigrations  from  Asia  into  Europe 
in  pre-historic  times,  194. 

Emperor  and  people,  481. 

Emperor  in  "Faust,"  518. 

Engagements  in  the  XVIIIth  cen- 
tury, 65. 

England,  51  ;  English  poetry  and 
morals,  155 ;  the  family-novel, 


INDEX. 


541 


151  ;  English  novel  in  Germany 
in  the  XVIIIth  century,  152. 

Enlightenment,  210. 

Envy,  514. 

Epistle,  Goethe's  to  Frederika  Oeser, 
1768,  151. 

Erfurt,  477  ;  became  Prussian  only, 
1802  ;  ancient  seat  of  mental  life, 
241  et  seq.  ;  large  place  compared 
to  Weimar,  232. 

Ernst  August  Constantine,  Duke  of 
Saxe- Weimar,  father  of  Carl  Au- 
gust, 235. 

Estrangement,  complete,  never  took 
place  between  Schiller  and  Goe- 
the, 394. 

"  Ethics,"  the,  of  Spinoza,  201  et  seq. 

Ettersburg,  191. 

Eugenia  in  "The  Natural  Daugh- 
ter," 462. 

Evangels  (Gospels),  199. 

Events  of  Goethe's  life  systemati- 
cally arranged,  printed  by  Gb'deke, 
279. 

Fanny,  161. 

Farewell,  in  "Iphigenia,"  289,  296. 

Fatalistic  character  in  the  "Elect- 
ive Affinities,"  469. 

"Faust,"  10,  16,  18,  19,  41  et  seq., 
452,  489,  491  et  seq.;  gradual 
growth  of,  503 ;  as  stage  play, 
519 ;  as  grand  magic  opera,  519. 

Faust's  "two  souls,"  205. 

Faust,  demon  in  human  shape,  516 ; 
the  youngest  of  all  classic  poetic 
fancies,  493  ;  the  poetic  work 
per  se,  491  ;  the  special  problem  of 
Faust,  514  ;  impression  of  Faust 
in  1808,  520  ;  development  of  the 
person  in  poetry,  514  ;  the  expla- 
nation of  Faust  one  of  our  great 
scientific  problems,  519  ;  first  con- 
ception of  Faust,  502,  515  ;  first 
and  second  part  of  Faust  origi- 
nated at  the  same  time,  500 ; 
first  representation  of  Faust  in 


Weimar,  1828,  519 ;  Frankfort 
and  Faust,  518 ;  printed  in  1790, 
391  ;  the  history  of  Faust  its  best 
explanation,  503  ;  Goethe's  chief 
work,  491,  507  ;  in  the  world  of 
to-day,  493  ;  in  Strasburg,  88 ; 
in  a  thousand  years,  493  ;  inter- 
national poetical  property,  495 ; 
the  local  element  in  Faust,  517  ; 
without  conclusion  in  Goethe's 
thoughts,  498,  515;  possible  with- 
out Goethe  as  originator,  495  ; 
paralipomena  to  Faust,  335  ;  rep- 
resents Goethe's  actual  life,  516. 

Faust's  salvation,  515. 

"Faust,  "scenes  in,  of  1790andl808; 
in  regard  to  Gretchen,  505  ;  and 
the  real  stage,  519  ;  and  German 
history,  491  ;  and  Gretchen  occu- 
pying the  first  place,  493  ;  and 
Mephistopheles,  507  ;  the  invis- 
ible counterpart  of  all  of  Goethe's 
male  characters,  495. 

Faust's  immortality,  498  ;  reconcil- 
iation in  Faust,  514  ;  Dr.  Faust- 
us  in  "  Old  Folk's  Comedy,"  515; 
its  completion  after  Goethe's  death, 
516. 

"  Faust,"  the,  of  1772,  503  et  seq.;  of 
1787,  498  ;  of  1790,  491,  499, 
503  et  seq.;  of  1808,  491,  503  et 
seq.:  only  a  fragment,  499  ;  its 
second  part,  515  ;  on  the  stage, 
519. 

Ferdinand  in  "  Stella,"  497. 

Ferrara,  331. 

Fichte,  394. 

Fingal,  492. 

Flachsland,  Caroline,  82,  114,  161, 
242,  276,  389  ;  letters  to  Herder, 
87  et  seq.;  her  judgment  of  Mad- 
ame La  Roche,  131. 

Florence,  348  ;  Boboli  Garden  in 
Florence,  28. 

Folk-songs,  their  influence  on 
Goethe's  language,  291. 

Formation  of  clouds,  454. 


542 


INDEX. 


Forum,  Roman,  313. 

Frau  Rath,  80  et  seq. 

Frankfort,  24  etscq.,  314,385;  "An- 
zeigen,"  122  et  seq.,  175,  372  ;  in 
Goethe's  time,  408  ;  contrasted 
with  Weimar,  232  ;  North-Ger- 
man, 357  ;  Frankfort  and  Lava- 
ter,  1774,  178. 

France,  33. 

Free  Will,  458. 

Frederick  the  Great,  2,  90,  107,  476, 
482  et  seq.,  487,  492  et  seq.; 
against  Stella,  213  ;  in  the  world 
of  to-day,  493  ;  bears  much  from 
Voltaire,  265 ;  Frederick  and  the 
Jesuits,  313 ;  glorified  by  Wie- 
land  in  the  epos  "  Cyrus,"  240. 

Frederick  the  Hohenstaufe,  492. 

Frederick  William  IV.,  489. 

Freedom,  359 ;  freedom  in  the 
XVII  Ith  century,  51 ;  Freedom 
dwells  on  the  mountains  in  the 
XVIIIth  century,  176. 

French,  the,  as  conquerors,  484;  in 
Gennany  in  1806,  476. 

French  culture  in  Germany,  483  ; 
classic  tragedy  in  England,  93  ; 
"French  form"  of  the  drama,  286; 
literature,  1770,  43;  national  spir- 
it, 482 ;  republic  honored  in  Ger- 
many, 483  ;  revolution,  10,  105, 
435  et  seq.,  443,  456,  475  et  seq., 
478  et  seq.;  benefit  of  the  French 
Revolution  in  Germany,  483 ; 
playwrights  in  Germany,  98  ; 
tyranny,  1806,  477 ;  verses  by 
Goethe,  35. 

Friday  receptions,  390. 

Friendship,  387  ;  indestructible 
friendship  between  Goethe  and 
Carl  August,  265  ;  between  Goe- 
the and  Schiller,  397. 

Frithiof,  492. 

Fiitsch,  von,  235  et  seq.,  331; 
Fritsch  and  Goethe,  244  etseq.; 
his  opposition,  272. 

Future  of  the  world,  451  et  seq. 


Gallantry,  34  et  seq.,  217. 

Gall,  205. 

Garbenheim,  164,  473. 

Garda,  Lago  di,  298. 

Gellert,  33  et  seq.,  40,  133,  151. 

Genius,  502. 

Geniuses  in  the  XVIIIth  century, 
239. 

Geoffroy  de  St.  Hilaire,  489. 

George,  innkeeper's  son  in  Drusen- 
heim,  64. 

German,  the,  of  "Gotz  von  Berlich- 
ingen,"  98,  293  ;  of  the  XVIth 
and  XVIIth  centuries,  291  ;  in 
"Iphigenia,"  293,  323. 

German  character,  436  ;  family  life, 
162,  437 ;  Frau,  401  ;  war  for 
independence,  478  ;  league  of 
princes,  479,  488  ;  the  "  Marquis 
Posas "  of  German  birth,  265  ; 
Goethe's  knowledge  of  German 
history,  110  ;  Goethe,  member  of 
the  German  Society  at  Strasburg, 
42  ;  German  house  in  Wetzlar, 
118,  135  ;  hexameter,  432  ;  em- 
peror, 101  et  seq.;  criticism,  501  ; 
life  in  the  XVIth  century,  104  ; 
Odyssey,  436  ;  philology,  501  ; 
prose,  3  ;  Schiller's  prose,  399  ; 
public,  277,  385,  412  ;  German 
public  on  Frau  von  Stein,  251  et 
seq.;  German  public  on  Gotz, 
372  ;  German  public  and  the  his- 
tory of  art  in  the  XVIIIth  cen- 
tury, 317  ;  opinion  organized  by 
Schiller  and  Goethe,  408  ;  Ger- 
man purists,  434 ;  judicial  proced- 
ure in  the  XVIIIth  century,  77  ; 
Reformation,  28,  103  et  seq",  108  ; 
Imperial  cities,  518  ;  cavaliers, 
107  ;  chivalry,  102  ;  language,  2, 
251  ;  care  for  the  German  lan- 
guage a  concern  of  the  people, 
523  ;  cities,  27  ct  seq.;  a  German 
national  theatre  impossible  in  the 
XVIIIth  century,  94  :  history  of 
the  German  stage,  93  et  seq.;  ver- 


INDEX. 


543 


sification,  434  ;  German  verse  of 
Moritz,  377  ;  popular  rising, 
1813,  484  et  seq.;  conditions, 
1813,  488. 

"  German  Mercury,"  the,  189,  239 
etscq.,  243,  393. 

Germany,  105,  110,  312  ;  1806, 
476  et  seq.;  clergy  in,  106  et 
seq.;  Middle,  232  ;  in  pre-historic 
times,  305  ;  political  disintegra- 
tion of,  522. 

Germans,  195,  304  et  seq.;  emi- 
grate into  Europe,  195  ;  German 
Empire  in  Rome,  308  ;  universal 
history  beginning  in  1850,  480. 

Gervinus,  94,  460. 

Gesler,  Count,  485. 

"  Gil  Bias  of  Santillana,"  440. 

Glacial  motion,  204. 

Glass  clocks,  168. 

Gleim,  184. 

Gluck,  286  et  seq.;  niece,  286. 

Gochhausen,  Fraulein  von,  295. 

Goedeke,  279,  379. 

Golden  heart,  Lilli's  present,  223. 

"  Golden  Mirror,"  the,  by  Wieland, 
241. 

Gbrz,  Count,  226. 

God,  200  ;  Spinoza's,  207. 

"  Gods,  heroes,  and  Wieland,"  243. 

Gottsched,  33  et  seq.,  133. 

Gottschedism,  99. 

"  Gotz  von  Berlichingen,"  18,  40, 
86  et  seq.,  98  et  seq.,  135,  148, 
157,  175,  358,  370,  507  ;  as  poli- 
tician and  soldier,  105  et  seq.;  as 
political  play,  479  ;  George  in, 
115  ;  in  Strasburg,  98,  109  ;  his 
life,  99  et  seq.;  his  little  son, 
162  ;  completed,  115. 

GOETHE.  1749-1775. 
Goethe's  law  business  in  Frank- 
fort, 73  et  seq. ;  admiration  for 
Herder,  193  ;  visit  to  the  Socra- 
tian  cobbler  at  Dresden,  61  ;  visit 
to  Mme.  La  Roche,  128  et  seq.  ; 


visit  to  Lavater,  222 ;  hemor- 
rhage, 36  ;  parting  with  Lilli, 
225;  the  "splendid  bo)',"  292; 
dissertation  for  degree,  74  ;  doc- 
tor's degree,  73  ;  first  journey  to 
Switzerland,  221  ;  adversaries, 
90 ;  happy  circumstances,  1774, 
215  ;  good  party  in  Frankfort, 

1774,  216 ;    hates  the    parental 
mansion,    1772,    135  ;     horizon, 
1772,    503  et  seq.;  in   the  years 
1771-72,  S8etseq.;  in  Heidelberg, 

1775,  227  ;   in  Leipsic,  445  ;  in 
Strasburg,  38  et  seq.,  445,  503,  513 
et  seq.  ;  childhood,  30  ;  mystic  re- 
ligious views  in  his  youth,  41 ; 
contemplated   journey  to   Italy, 

1775,  227  ;  journey  to  the  Rhine 
with  Lavater,  181 ;  renown  gained 
by  "  Werther,"  215 ;  sends  "  Wer- 
ther" to  Lotte  Kestner,  143  ;  stud- 
ies in   Strasburg,    508  ;    Goethe 
and  Jacobi  in    Pempelfort,  186  ; 
Goethe  and  Kestner's  first  meet- 
ing in  Wetzlar,  158  ;  and  Klop- 
stock,  210  ;   and  Werther,    520  ; 
paternal     mansion,     25 ;    leaves 
Frederika,  66  ;  attempts  to  break 
with  Lilli,  219;  intends  to  become 
doctor,  1771,  60  ;  intends  to  go 
to  Strasburg,  37  ;  two  portraits  in 
Lavater's  "Physiognomic,"  175. 

1775-1832. 
Goethe  abdicates  as  poet  and  author, 

1776,  283  ;  aversion  to  Schiller, 
1788,  873;    "  Altmeister,"  490; 
from  1780,  to  1793,  391 ;  official 
activity,  248  ;   engaged  in    1780 
on  a  life  of  Bernhardt  of  Weimar, 
281 ;    government    official,    2&6, 
et  seq.,  282,  480;   acknowledges 
his  wrong  towards  Jacobi,    191 
et  seq. ;   visits  Schiller  in  Jena, 
394  ;    considers  his   co-operation 
with  Schiller  the  greatest  outward 
event  of  his  life,  415  ;  statue  at 


544 


INDEX. 


Weimar,  522  ;  discontinues  in 
1776  his  literary  labors,  248  ; 
indispensable  to  Carl  August, 
264  ;  thinks  in  his  deepest 
soul  differently  from  Schiller, 
410 ;  the  "  fat  privy  council- 
lor," 392;  the  "most  polished 
man  of  the  age,"  407  ;  the  "  cold 
gray  man  of  art,"  407 ;  the  "aris- 
tocratic Roman,"  364  ;  entrance 
at  Weimar,  1,  244  ;  discovers  the 
intermaxillary,  457 ;  delight  at 
physical  discoveries,  449  ;  first 
winter  in  Weimar,  244  et  seq.; 
first  Weimar  times,  275  ;  son  of 
a  Frankfort  patrician  as  against 
the  Thuringian  nobility,  233; 
friendship  with  Schiller,  397  ;  in 
awe  of  Faust,  497 ;  Goethe's 
garden-house  in  the  park  of 
Weimar,  266  et  seq.  ;  garden  in 
Weimar,  266  ;  avoids  Herder,  407; 
designs  a  frontispiece  to  a  work  of 
Schiller's,  394;  called  "Smooth 
and  Cold,"  323;  belief  in  Napoleon, 
486  ;  Gleim  enraged,  432  ;  Hartz 
journey,  61 ;  house  in  Weimar, 
390  ;  closed,  523  ;  marriage,  335  ; 
ideal  of  the  literary  German  pub- 
lic, 1800,  417  ;  in  the  campaign  of 
1793,  481  ;  Eckermann's  descrip- 
tion of  his  appearance  after  death, 
524  et  seq.;  in  the  last  ten  years  of 
his  life,  489  ;  in  Silesia,  390 ;  in 
Weimar,  231  et  seq. ;  sick  when 
Schiller  died,  419 ;  artist  and 
savan,  1786,  282 ;  Councillor  of 
Legation  with  a  salary  of  1200 
thalers,  231  ;  passion  in  his  seven- 
tieth year,  524 ;  last  twenty 
years,  522  ;  reads  "Hermann  and 
Dorothea  "  to  Jacobi's  son,  192  ; 
"abused"  by  Schiller;  how  to 
be  understood,  414 ;  contributor 
to  "The  Hours,"  393  et  seq.; 
after  Schiller's  death,  417  et 
seq.,  441  ci  acq.,  478 ;  new  in 


Weimar,  238 ;  superintendence 
of  the  government  institutions  for 
science  and  ait,  1790,  389 ; 
"  orphic  period,"  460  ;  contrasted 
with  Faust,  492  ;  personal  meet- 
ing with  Wieland,  243  ;  produc- 
tion from  1776-86  scanty,  248; 
"Professor,"  400;  secretary  at 
the  discussions  on  the  formation 
of  the  league  of  German  princes, 

480  et  seq. ;  counsel  to  Eckermann 
how  to  manage  as  a  poet,  414  ; 
Goethe  goes  to  Switzerland  with 
the  Duke,  268  et  seq.  ;  coffin  in 
the  prince's  tomb,  265  ;  author- 
ship, 1785,  282  ;  plays  Alceste  in 
his  "  Mitschuldigen,"   274;  the 
greater  force  beside    the    duke, 
264  ;  strict  official,  273  ;  templar 
at  the  ball,  273  ;  will,  regarding 
"  Faust,"    502  ;  theatrical  man- 
ager in  Weimar,  274  ;  sorrow  for 
Christiane,  341  ;  engaged  in  bot- 
any with  Christiane,  446  ;  sepa- 
ration from  Herder  in  later  times, 
406   et  seq.  ;  arrives  at  Weimar 
Nov.  7,  1775,  227  ;  Goethe  and 
the  son  of  Frau  von  Stein,  254; 
and  the  rising  of  1813,  484  et  s?q. ; 
and  the*  families  of  his  old  friends 
and    the    "young    poets,"   411, 
184  ;  and  popular  representation, 

481  ;  and  a  united  Germany,  488 ; 
and  Herder,  508  ;  after  his  Italian 
journey,  353  et  seq.  ;  and  Napo- 
leon, 486  ;  and  Schiller,  392  et 
seq. ;   their  meeting,  1794,  395  ; 
relation  to  Frau  von  Stein,  disin- 
terested friendship  of  the  noblest 
kind,  251  ;   at  Jena,  394  ;   mar- 
riage, 383  et  seq. ;  glorifies  Thu- 
ringia,    261  ;    intercourse    with 
Carl    August    after   1786,    279  ; 
mediator  between  the  duke   and 
the  duchess,  267  ;  Life  at  Weimar, 
520  ;  resolves  to  complete  Schil- 
ler's "Demetrius,"  442  ;  his  liter- 


INDEX. 


545 


ary  testament,  500 ;  typical  plant, 
446  ct  seq. ;  hesitating  progress  on 
his  "Faust,"  497;  ten  years  in 
Weimar,  247,  465 ;  return  to 
Weimar  from  Italy  in  the  summer 
of  1788,  353,  364 ;  connection 
with  the  literary  production  of 
Germany,  420  ;  acquaintance  with 
Schiller  "a  ten  years'  marriage," 
413  et  seq. ;  dies  March  22,  1832, 
524. 

ITALY. 

Goethe's  journey  to  Italy,  18  ;  au- 
tumn 1786  to  Italy,  279  ;  visit 
at  the  house  of  the  Balsamo  in 
Palermo,  61  ;  first  appearance  in 
Rome,  312 ;  passage  across  the 
Brenner,  297 ;  house  in  Rome, 
347  ;  longing  for  home,  351  ;  in 
Italy  when  Schiller  came  to  Wei- 
mar, 255  ;  thirty-seven  years  old 
when  he  arrived  at  Rome,  314  ; 
an  inn  in  Rome,  348  ;  "Circle" 
in  Rome,  321  ;  arrival  at  Rome, 
1786,  302 ;  with  the  Duchess 
Dowager  in  Italy,  1790,  390; 
Roman  life  of,  1787-88,  347 ;  tav- 
ern in  Rome,  422 ;  leaves  Rome 
in  April,  1788,  353 ;  for  the  first 
time  his  own  master  at  Rome, 
315. 

FAMILY. 

Goethe's  family,  196  ;  the  young, 
400;  mother,  80  et  seq.,  231  ;  on 
the  first  representation  of  "  Iphi- 
genia,"  295  ;  mother  and  Chris- 
tiane  Vulpius,  337 ;  Goethe's 
mother  and  "  Hermann  and  Doro- 
thea," 437  ;  reverence  for  Lava- 
ter,  178. 

LETTERS. 

Goethe's  farewell  letter  to  Frau  von 
Stein,  383  ;  notes  to  Frau  von 
Stein  in  the  summer  of  1783,  367 
et  seq.;  letters  to  Wilhelm  von 
Humboldt  of  the  17th  of  March, 
1832,  500  ;  to  Frau  von  Stein  of 


Nov.  1,  1786,  302  ;  last  letter  to 
Humboldt,  500,  506  ;  to  Schiller 
of  Aug.  27,  1794,  398  et  seq.  ; 
letter  to  Philip  Seidel  of  May, 
1787,  326 ;  from  Saarbriicken, 
1771,  160  ;  letters  to  Gustchen 
Stolberg,  217  ;  earliest  letters  to 
Jacobi,  188  et  seq. ;  to  Kestner, 
125  et  seq.  ;  to  Lotte,  125  et  seq.; 
to  Frau  von  Stein,  edited  by  A. 
Scholl,  250  ;  from  Italy  to  Carl 
August,  279 ;  first  letter  from 
Italy,  297  ;  later  revision  of  his 
letters  from  Italy,  316  ;  from 
Sicily,  343  ;  the  most  perfect  in 
the  "Italian  Journey,"  343; 
correspondence  with  Frau  von 
Stein,  193,  249 ;  with  Jacobi, 
186  ;  with  Lavater,  167- 

OPIXIONS. 

Goethe  to  Carl  August  on  "Faust," 
1787,  498  ;  to  his  mother  on  his 
entrance  into  service  at  the 
Saxon  court,  231  ;  to  Frau  von 
Stein  in  September  1780,  on  his 
writings,  280  ;  on  "  Wilhelm 
Meister, "  439  ;  to  Herder  on  La- 
vater in  later  times,  178;  to  La- 
vater on  Spring  in  1781,  263  ; 
on  Lilli,  224  ;  to  Kestner  on  his 
(Goethe's)  writing,  1780,  280  ;  on 
"  Faust  "  as  a  stage  play,  519  et 
seq.;  characterization  of  Hamlet 
in  "  Wilhelm  Meister,"  440  ;  of 
his  father,  79  ;  construes  Wieland 
historically,  242  ;  criticism  of 
verses  received,  411  ;  calls  Klop- 
stock's  "Republic  of  Learned 
Men  "  the  most  important  writing 
of  the  century,  213  ;  promemoria 
of  Schiller's  professorship  of  Dec. 
3,  1788,  375  ;  criticises  Fraulein 
von  Sternheim,  131  ;  Lavater, 
178;  Wieland's  "Golden  Mir- 
ror," 242;  predicts  the  revolution 
in  the  second  half  of  the  XlXth 


35 


546 


INDEX. 


century,  512  ;  later  sayings  about 
Schiller,  414  ;  Goetlie  on  Carl 
August  to  Eckermann,  268 ; 
on  "Faust"  to  Schiller,  517  ;  on 
Schiller's  criticism  of  "Egmont," 
373;  on  Wieland's  "Oberon," 
244. 

IDIOSYNCRASIES. 

Goethe's  obtuseness  and  penetration, 
205  ;  humility,  334  ;  double  ex- 
istence, 205,  514  ;  impulse  to  con- 
fess, 255  ;  obtuseness,  126  ;  in- 
clination to  incognito,  61  ;  youth- 
ful elegance,  233  ;  could  be  pithy, 
497  ;  bodily  bearing,  395  ;  som- 
nambulism, 360  ;  severity  to  him- 
self, 206  ;  doctrine  of  Fatalism, 
461  ;  self-criticism,  513  ;  self-re- 
liance, 234  ;  suicidal  thoughts, 
135,  514  ;  speaks  in  parables,  205  ; 
stiffness  in  intercourse,  395  ;  lean- 
ing to  the  universal,  315  ;  unap- 
proachableness,  387 ;  secretive- 
ness,  247. 

STYLE,  LANGUAGE,  METRE. 
Hexameter,  422  ;  written  for  the  ear, 
not  for  the  eye,  435  ;  ridiculed, 
433  ;  condemned  by  Gleim,  432  ; 
before  and  after  the  Italian  journey, 
432  ;  Iambics,  329  ;  imitation  of 
Lavater's  style,  175  ;  so-called 
"  incorrect "  verses,  433  ;  un- 
rhymed  rhymes,  434  ;  language, 
15  ;  in  "  Tasso,"  329  ;  in  "  Wer- 
ther,"  165;  in  "Iphigenia," 
"Tasso,"  "  Egmont,"  426  ;  from 
a  spoken  becomes  a  written,  292  ; 
style  in  the  "  Elective  Aflinities," 
in  the  last  period,  523. 

GENERAL. 

Goethe,  genuine  disciple  of  Spinoza, 
269  ;  nobility,  334  ;  anatomical 
studies,  447  ;  other  male  charac- 
ters beside  Faust,  495  et  seq.  ; 
aristocratic  standpoint  in  his  view 


of  the  cosmos,  458  ;  well  versed  in 
the  Bible,  197;  adopts  everywhere 
the  medium,  75  ;  botanical 
studies,  385  ;  Christian  educa- 
tion, 200  ;  representation  of 
Spinoza,  207  ;  democracy,  335  ; 
monuments,  522  ;  the  "  Great 
Heathen,"  208  ;  poetry  an  ever- 
lasting confession,  495  ;  poetry  in 
contrast  with  Schiller's,  358 
ct  seq.  ;  a  Greek,  459  ;  origin  of 
his  poems,  423  ;  enthusiasm  for 
Greek  art  in  close  connection 
with  his  views  of  Nature,  450  ; 
successes,  417  ;  plots  of  his  writ- 
ings never  mere  repetitions  of  ex- 
periences, 468  ;  fragmentary 
style  of  writing,  407  ;  female 
characters,  496  ;  scientific  activ- 
ity, 421,  453  ;  belief  in  God  and 
immortality,  207  ;  both  articles 
of  faith,  200 ;  "  Paganism," 
Goethe's,  208  ;  historian,  82  et 
seq.  ;  479  ;  ideal  stage,  333  ;  in- 
carnations, 497  ;  inclination  to 
incognito,  61  ;  artistic-historical 
studies,  385  ;  lives  always  out- 
side of  Prussia,  485  ;  learns  of 
the  classic  masters,  422  ;  literary 
landscape  painter,  158 ;  frag- 
mentary male  characters,  496  ; 
laborious  poetic  work,  434  ; 
nature,  207  ;  never  in  Paris, 
London,  Vienna,  314  ;  never  dis- 
sipated, 335  ;  osteological  studies, 
385  ;  patriotism,  486  ;  his  want 
of  when  suspected,  490  ;  Goethe's 
physical  appearance,  273  ct  seq., 
497 ;  politician  in  the  wars  of 
liberty,  477  ;  political  views,  47 
et  seq.,  no  active  politician,  478  ; 
result,  522  ;  popularity,  520 ;  as 
novel  writer,  compared  with  Rous- 
seau, 154  ;  his  collective  works 
to  be  taken  as  a  paralipomcna  to 
Faust,  517  ;  so-called  immorality, 
441,  465  ;  statesman  of  the  old 


INDEX. 


547 


school,  484  ;  subjective  point  of 
view,  461  ;  many  things  not  in 
his  journals,  267  ;  sense  of  in- 
dependence, 415  ;  Goethe  and 
the  German  Nation,  481  et  seq., 
488,  521  ctseq.;  and  astronomy, 
459  ;  botany,  446  ct  seq.  ;  mar- 
riage, 464 ;  geology,  449  ;  meteo- 
rology, 454  ;  natural  sciences,  445 
et  seq.  ;  osteology,  448,  457  ;  and 
Spinoza's  system,  201  ;  relation  to 
the  history  of  literature, ,385  ;  to 
philology,  385  ;  works  in  future 
epochs,  498  ;  two  great  changes  in 
his  political  opinions,  511. 

WORKS. 

Goethe's  earliest  poem  "  Christ's  de- 
scent into  hell,"  198  ;  "  Memory 
of  vanished  joy,"  223  et  seq.  ;  to 
Lida,  299  ;  "  Eyes,  my  eyes,  what 
weighs  you  down  ?  "  223  ;  "  God 
and  the  Bajadere,"  445  ;  epilogue 
to  the  "  Song  of  the  Bell,"  442  ; 
first  complete  edition  of  his  writ- 
ings, 1785,  282,  384  ;  collection 
of  his  poems,  384  ;  Erwin  of 
Steinbach,  137,  160  ;  poems  of 
his  first  sojourn  at  Weimar,  291  ; 
complete  edition  of  his  works, 
521  ;  "  High  up  on  the  tower 
old,"  181  ;  Ilmenau,  poem  to 
Carl  August,  269;  "In  the 
field  I  wander,  still  and  gloomy," 
229  ;  "In  the  sweet  vale,  on 
snow-crowned  height,"  228 ; 
works  of  his  youth,  36  ;  "  Thou 
didst  know  each  motive  of  my  be- 
ing," 259;  Odes,  210;  Goethe's 
and  Pindar's  odes,  160  ;  romances 
and  ballads,  291  ;  criticisms  in 
the  "Gelehrtcn  Frankfurter  An- 
zeigen,"  131 ;  translation  of  Cor- 
neille's  "Menteur,"  98;  "It  is 
impossible  to  show  the  day  to 
the  day,"  413  ;  "  Wherefore  so 
resistlessly  dost  draw  me  ?  "  217 ; 


works  before  and  after  his  Italian 
journey  424. 

[Works     not     mentioned    above 
under  their  proper  letter.] 

Greeks,  110,  195  ct  seq.,  454  ;  poet- 
ical works  of  the  Greeks,  411. 

Greece,  its  connection  with  Asia, 
304. 

Greek  art,  320,  424  etscq.;  sea,  359; 
myths  of  the  creation,  454;  Greek 
and  Koman  culture,  386;  tragedy, 
473  ;  versification,  426. 

Gretchen,  16,  493  et  seq.;  to  be  re- 
ferred back  to  Frederika,  505; 
origin  of,  505  et  seq.;  first  and 
last  creation  of  Goethe,  494  ;  in 
glorified  form,  506. 

Grimm,  Jacob,  152  ;  birthday,  Jan- 
uary 6th,  169. 

Grimm,  Jacob  and  Wilhelm  ( "  Wbr- 
ter  Buch"),  33. 

Groth,  Klaus,  435  ;  and  the  low 
German  dialect,  176. 

Gudnm,  436. 

Guillard's  libretto  of  "Iphigenia" 
for  Gluck,  288. 

Giinderode,  129. 

Gutzkow,  202. 

Hapsburg  dynasty,  95. 

Hackert,  Philipp,  344  et  seq. 

Hadrian,  his  times  at  Rome,  339. 

Halle,  477. 

Hamann,  44  et  seq. 

Hamlet,  16,  58,  492. 

Handel,  286. 

Haugwitz,  Count,  222. 

Haym  on  Herder  and  Merck,  85. 

Heavenly  scenes  in  "Faust,"  518. 

Hector,  492. 

Heidelberg,  478. 

Heine  and  the  "  Westostliche  Di- 
van," 521  ;  and  Goethe,  407. 

Heinse,  374. 

Hennes,  Dr.,  222. 

Henrietta  in  Jacobi's  "Woldemar," 
190. 


548 


INDEX. 


Herder,  3,  9,  33,  37,  67,  75,  87  et 
geq.,  114  et  seq.,  163,  192,  239, 
336,  380,  389,  406  et  seq.,  421, 
457,  463  ;  call  from  Biickeburg 
to  Weimar,  275  ;  bride,  161  ; 
character,  354  etseq.;  Christian- 
ity, 198  ;  "  conversion,"  89;  wife, 
276,  389  ;  historical  view,  457  ; 
Haym's  book  on  Herder,  85  :  in 
Biickeburg,  212 ;  in  Strasburg, 
43  etseq.;  in  Weimar,  276  etseq.; 
cold,  disinterested,  merciless  critic, 
609;  "Die  kritischen  Walder," 
46  ;  on  Wieland,  242  ;  writings, 
406 ;  called  as  professor  to  Got- 
tiiigen,  276 ;  language,  54 ;  al- 
ways preacher,  54  ;  quarrel  with 
Wolf,  406  ;  seeks  to  overpower 
Goethe,  167  ;  on  the  Roman 
church,  312  ;  on  Goethe's  Italian 
letters,  364  ;  Herder  and  Me- 
phisto,  508  et  seq.;  leaves  Stras- 
burg, 60. 

Herder's  capacity  for  loving,  355. 

"  Hermann  and  Dorothea,"  19,  428, 
432,  494  ;  1796,  192  ;  the  only 
large  poem  giving  pleasure  to 
Goethe  in  his  old  age,  436 ;  en- 
vious criticisms,  437  ;  its  "im- 
mense circulation,"  437. 

Herodotus,  431. 

Heroes,  409. 

Herzlieb,  Minna,  470  et  seq. 

Hexameter,  Franks  and  Vandals 
make  Latin  hexameter,  90  ;  high 
German  ( Hoch  Deutsch )  hexame- 
ter, 433  ;  Homer's  hexameter,  430. 

Heyne  writes  about  Wieland's 
"Golden  Mirror,"  241. 

Highest  ideas,  200  ;  interest  of  hu- 
manity, 200. 

Himburg's  unauthorized  edition  of 
Goethe's  works,  296. 

Hirzel,  Solomon,  21,  25,  169 ;  cat- 
alogue, 36,  248. 

History,  83,  454,  491  ;  historians, 
413  ;  historical  heroes  in  dramas, 


370  ;  hypotheses,  195  ;  truth  in 
works  of  fiction,  103  et  seq. 

History  of  art  exciting  public  inter- 
est about  1800,  443. 

History  of  Europe,  304  et  seq.;  of 
the  world  about  1700,  47. 

"  History  of  Mankind,"  276. 

Homer,  4  et  seq.,  16,  26,  157,  194 
et  seq.,  305,  310,  422,  424  ;  as 
poet  of  his  nation,  430  etseq.; 
the  first  great  phenomenon  of 
Europe,  302  ;  influence  on  Goethe, 
196  ;  Homer's  heroes,  493. 

"Hours,"  the,  by  agreement  with 
Cotta,  393. 

Howard,  454. 

Human  skulls,  457  ;  culture  im- 
measurable, 194. 

Humboldt,  Alex,  von,  4,  489  et  seq. 

Hmnboldt,  Wilhelm  von,  4,  394, 
408  ;  prince  of  German  critics, 
501  et  seq.;  makes  Schiller's  and 
Goethe's  works  accessible  to  Ger- 
man savans  and  philologists,  501. 

Hutten,  102. 

Ideal  kingdom  of  Rousseau,  212. 
"Ideas  of  the   Philosophy  of  the 

History  of  Mankind,"  by  Herder, 

276,  356. 
Iliad,  422. 
Ilm,  the,  261. 
Immortality,    207  ;    literary,    165, 

Goethe's   belief    in   immortality, 

200  et  seq. 

Imogen  and  Gretchen,  494. 
Infanticide,    the,    by  Wagner,    41, 

505. 

Innate  rhythm  of  the  German  lan- 
guage, 428. 
Intended  effects  in  the    "  Elective 

Affinities,"  467. 
Interpolations  and  extensions  in  the 

"  Elective  Affinities,"  470. 
Intrigue  to   separate    Goethe    and 

Schiller,  409. 
Ionic  dialect,  430. 


INDEX. 


549 


"Iphigenia,"  16, 18,  26,  263,  356  et 
seq.,  421,  462  ;  as  stage  perform- 
ance, 328;  work  on  "Iphigenia," 
290  et  seq.;  originated  from 
Gluck's  cantata,  287  ;  read  again 
to  Carl  August  in  1785,  296  ;  Ger- 
man and  Roman  "Iphigenia," 
283  etseq.;  a  Hellenistic  play,  323; 
a  step  backward,  284 ;  first  repre- 
sentation of,  277  ;  date  of  its  ori- 
gin, March,  1779,  287  ;  first  read- 
ing in  Rome,  322  ;  Goethe's  child 
of  pain,  296  ;  "  Iphigenia"  in  the 
first  draft  or  sketch,  295  et  seq.;  in 
Italy,  297 etseq.;  rehearsals,  1779, 
295  ;  Roman  remodelling,  326, 
423  et  seq.;  to  be  printed  in  1786, 
296;  "Iphigenia"  and  the  Ital- 
ian librettos,  285  ;  and  Frau  von 
Stein,  426;  and  Schiller,  327, 
328  ;  fourth  act  written  March 
18,  1779,  287  ;  arranged  for  the 
stage  by  Schiller,  407  ;  reading  re- 
fused by  Goethe,  1792,  328; 
Iphigenia  at  Delphi,  300  ;  "  Iphi- 
genia in  Aulis  "  by  Gluck,  286, 
328;  "Iphigenia  in  Tauris"  by 
Gluck,  293,  294,  328;  libretto  by 
Guimard  de  la  Touche.  288. 

Islands  of  the  blest,  75. 

Italians  of  the  XVJth  century,  244. 

"  Italian  Journey  "  of  Goethe,  25, 
377  ;  false  judgment  of  it,  316. 

Italy  as  a  political  body  according 
to  Goethe's  view,  480  ;  home  of 
the  opera,  284. 

Ithaca,  422. 

Jabach's  house  at  Cologne,  186. 

Jacobi,  Fritz,  167  et  seq.,  184  ct 
seq.,  192,  328  et  seq.,  333,  392  et 
seq.,  396  :  to  Goethe  on  "  Wolde- 
mar's  "  execution,  191  ;  view  on 
Spinoza's  doctrine,  192  ;  grand- 
child, 192  ;  family,  184  et  seq.  ; 
wife,  185  et  seq.  ;  "Iphigenia  " 
sent  to  Jacobi,  191  ;  error  concern- 


ing Goethe,  208  et  seq.  ;  circle, 
472  ;  posthumous  papers,  186  ; 
novel  "Allvvill,"  185  ;  writes  in 
Goethe's  style,  189  ;  son  at 
Goethe's,  192  ;  on  "  Faust,"  503  ; 
on  Herder,  1788,  354  ;  tran- 
scendental tendencies  increase, 
192 ;  Jacobi  and  Spinoza,  207  ; 
and  Wieland,  243;  "Woldemar," 
189. 

Jacobi,  George,  184. 

Jacobi,  Helen,  185. 

Jacobi,  Max-,  186. 

Jahn,  Otto,  36. 

Jaxthausen,  the  real  and  the  poeti- 
cal, 104. 

Jean  Paul,  5  ;  heroines,  161 ;  novels, 
82. 

Jena,  12,  375,  386,  445;  zenith, 
477  ;  savans,  417  ;  literary  paper 
of  Jena,  433  ;  boasters  of  Jena  and 
Halle,  34  ;  battle  of  Jena,  337  ; 
Jena  people  and  Goethe,  407. 

Jerusalem,  135  et  seq. 

Jesuits  in  Rome,  320. 

Jew,  poems  of  a  Polish,  — 1772, 
122. 

Jews,  201  ;  their  emigration  from 
Portugal,  201  ;  in  Amsterdam 
opposed  to  Spinoza,  202  ;  Jewish 
spirit,  203. 

Johannes  Secundus,  339. 

Joseph  II.,  Emperor,  241. 

Juan  Don,  216. 

Juliet,  of  Shakspeare,  16,  494,  496. 

Julie,  of  Rousseau,  154. 

July,  revolution  of,  489. 

Jung  Stilling,  14  etseq. ;  his  Christi- 
anity, 199. 

Just,  the,  as  the  aim  of  mankind, 
200. 

Justi,  Wilhelm,  317. 

Kant,  393  et  seq.,  451. 
Kauffmann,  Angelica,  321  et  seq. 
Keil  at  Weimar,  70,  248. 
Kernel  and  shell  of  Nature,  453. 


550 


INDEX. 


Kestner,  118  et  scq.,  134  ;  his  letter 
to  Hennig  on  "  Werther,"  146  ; 
receives  a  copy  of  the  ' '  Iphigenia, " 
296  ;  sensitiveness  at  the  appear- 
ance of  "Werther,"  143. 

Kieser,  Dr.,  in  Jena,  488. 

Kleist,  Ewald  von,  429. 

Klettenherg,  Fraulein  von,  175. 

Klopstock,  161,  226,  286,  505  ; 
visit  in  Frankfort,  1774,  210 ; 
letter  to  Goethe,  May,  1776,  245  ; 
his  German,  211,  213 ;  Fanny, 
161;  "Republic  of  Learned  Men," 
212;  hexameter,  433;  "Mes- 
siah," 211 ;  adoring  pupils,  222  ; 
compared  with  Wieland,  239, 
240  ;  creator  of  modern  Ger- 
man prosody,  428  et  scq. ;  Klop- 
stock and  German  fiction,  211 
et  seq. 

Knebel,  226,  277,  472  ;  Schiller  dis- 
places him  at  Goethe's,  406  ; 
reads  "  Iphigenia,"  296  ;  wishes 
to  chant  Bonaparte's  victories, 
482. 

Kochberg,  262. 

Kbrner,  Councillor,  360,  363,  365, 
394  ;  Korner  and  Schiller,  408  ; 
Theodore,  486. 

Kotzebue,  396  ;  in  Weimar,  409. 

Kriegk,  31  ;  picture  of  German 
culture,  76  et  scq. 

Lahnstein,  181. 

Lake  of  Lucerne,  223. 

Landscape  painting,  343  et  seq. 

Landscapes,  description  of,  159  et 
seq.,  345. 

Language,  Goethe's  in  his  Frank- 
fort times,  291  et  seq.  ;  language 
of  Spinoza  hardly  to  be  called 
language,  204  ;  language  of  Stol- 
berg,  222 ;  philosophy,  and  his- 
tory, 201. 

Laplace,  451. 

Laroche,  privy  councillor,  130  ; 
Maximiliaue  von  Laroche,  134, 


470  ;  marries  Brentano,  136  ; 
Sopliie  von  Laroche  (born  Guter- 
man),  130  et  scq.,  240,  243. 

Late  acquaintance  of  Schiller  and 
Goethe,  399. 

Lavater,  167  et  scq.,  IQictseq.,  217, 
385,  396,  465  ;  "  Glimpses  into 
Eternity,"  170;  deceived  himself 
and  others,  173;  bust  by  Dan- 
necker,  173  et  scq.;  Goethe's  char- 
acterization of,  179  ;  Christian- 
ity, 200  et  seq.;  the  "prophet," 
178  ;  influence  on  Goethe's  dic- 
tion, 291  ;  employs  his  spirit- 
ual—  yes,  his  clerical — power 
for  worldly  purposes,  187  ;  dia- 
lect, 175  ;  in  Coblentz,  181  ;  in 
Frankfort,  1774,  176  ;  childhood, 
170  ctscq.;  oracular  speech,  175  ; 
"  Physiognomical  Fragments," 
1775-1778,  172  etscq.;  style,  181  ; 
the  hero  of  Goethe's  "  Mahomet," 
173;  described  by  Goethe,  177, 
178  ;  some  one  gave  Goethe  in 
Strasburg  the  silhouette  of  Frau 
von  Stein  for  Lavater's  work, 
258. 

Law  of  necessity  in  Nature,  461. 

Lebrun,  painter,  186. 

Leipsic,  32  etscq.,  232,  314,  518; 
maidens  of,  35  ;  gallantry,  34  ; 
girls,  215. 

Leuz,  40,  329  et  scq. 

Leonardo  da  Vinci,  424. 

Lerse,  40. 

Le  Sage,  440. 

Lessing,  9,  31,  33,  45,  50,  99,  163, 
312,  492  ;  as  dramatic  poet,  96  et 
scq.;  in  Wolfenbiittel,  212  ;  com- 
pared to  Wieland,  239  ;  on  Shak- 
speare's  Romeo  and  Juliet,  496  ; 
and  Spinoza,  207  ;  scientifically 
construed  for  the  first  time  by 
Gervinus,  94. 

Lilli  Schonemann,  215  et  scq.,  246, 
250,  258  ;  character,  217  ;  Goethe 
at  her  window  on  the  last  evening 


INDEX. 


551 


before  leaving  for  Weimar,  227  ; 
Goethe,  1830,  on  Lilli,  230  ; 
Countess  Egloft'steiu  Lilli's  con- 
fidante, 230  ;  marries  Tiirckheim, 
229 ;  her  children  and  Goethe, 
230. 

Literary  workers  of  the  second  class, 
184. 

Loeper,  G.  von,  22,  69,  216  ;  edi- 
tion of  "Faust,"  513  ;  on  Merck, 
85. 

London  in  Shakspeare's  time,  95. 

"Lorelei,"  129. 

Lotte  Buff,  70,  118  et  seq.,  217,  262 
ctseq.;  Lotte  Kestner,  140;  her 
grandchildren  and  Goethe,  161  ; 
has  blue  eyes,  Werther's  Lotte 
black  ones,  144  ;  Lotte  Kestner 
and  Werther's  Lotte,  138;  Lotte  in 
"  Werther,"  161,  466;  Werther's 
Lotte,  472 ;  Werther's  Lotte 
Goethe's  most  renowned  creation, 
160  ;  Werther  and  Lotte  and 
Klopstock,  211 ;  Werther's  Lotte 
and  Rousseau's  Julie,  160. 

Lotte  Schiller's  belief  in  Goethe, 
402. 

Louis  XIV.,  95. 

Louis  XV.,  49. 

Louise,  Duchess,  474  ;  confidante 
of  Frau  von  Stein  in  her  relation 
with  Goethe,  252. 

Luciane  represents  Bettina,  472. 

Lucinda  in  Strasburg,  59. 

"Luise,"  by  Voss,  435. 

Luther,  102,  196  et  seq.;  in  Erfurt, 
241  ;  death,  162. 

Lyric  poetry  of  to-day,  521. 

Madrid,  95. 

Mahomet,  169. 

' '  Mahomet, "  Goethe's  tragedy  of, 
178,  210. 

Maid  of  Orleans,  479,  482. 

Manuscript  of  the  "  Iphigenia"  ac- 
companies Goethe,  296  et  seq. 

Marcellus  Theatre,  348. 


Marianna  in  "  Wilhelm  Meister," 
277,  439. 

"Marquis  Posas,"  Germans  are  all 
born,  265. 

Martha  in  "  Faust,"  512. 

"Marie  Stuart,"  418,  479. 

"Master-singing  "  (Meistersangerei) 
in  the  construction  of  Greek  verses, 
411. 

Medici,  Giuliano  and  Lorenzo  dei, 
103. 

Meer,  Jan  van  der,  174. 

Memoir,  438. 

Mengs,  322. 

Mephisto,  86,  515  ;  development 
of  the  character,  507  et  seq.;  in 
the  world  of  to-day,  493  ;  part 
of  the  political  Mephisto,  489 ; 
growth  of  in  Goethe's  mind, 
511. 

Merck,  SSetseq.,  116,  134, 173,  177, 
510  et  seq.;  gets  Goethe  out  of 
Wetzlar,  128  ;  printing-office  iu 
Langen,  86  ;  and  Mephisto,  134, 
507,  510  et  seq.;  characterized  by 
Goethe,  83  et  seq. 

Merkel  in  Weimar,  409. 

"  Messiah  "  of  Klopstock,  161,  240. 

Metastasio's  librettos,  286. 

Meyer,  388. 

Michael  Angelo,  103,  196  et  seq., 
312,  315,  319,  424. 

Mignon,  438  et  seq. 

"Minna  von  Baruhelm,"  97. 

"  Mitsclmldigen, "  98,  274;  earliest 
form,  35. 

Mittler  in  the  "  Elective  Affinities  " 
supposed  to  be  Knebel,  472. 

Modern  prose  compared  with  Pla- 
to's, 430. 

Modern  translations  of  classic  verse, 
434. 

Moliere,  32,  91. 

Monologues  and  arias,  285. 

Montesquieu,  276. 

Moral  organization  of  humanity, 
200. 


552 


INDEX. 


Morbid  imagination  of  the  present 
generation,  452. 

Moritz,  388  ;  letters  from  Italy,  377  ; 
in  Weimar,  378;  and  "Iphige- 
nia," 377. 

Mosaic  history  of  creation,  454. 

Moses,  498. 

Moscow,  487. 

Mountains  awaken  poetical  thoughts 
in  Goethe,  297. 

Mozart,  216,  418. 

Miiller,  Johannes  von,  83. 

Miiller,  Chancellor,  206,  212. 

Miiller,  Wilhelm,  339. 

Munich,  478. 

Murat,  347. 

Music,  influence  of  on  Goethe  while 
writing  "  Iphigenia,"  292. 

Myth  of  every  man's  life  formed  in 
his  own  recollection,  247. 

Mythical,   the,  in   history,    304   et 


Naked  human  eye,  the,  —  the  true 

measure  of  things,  459. 
Naples,  343,  347. 
Napoleon,    443,    476   et  seq.,    482, 

485  et  seq.;   his   interview  with 

Goethe,  486;  marshals,  487  etseq.; 

victorious  campaign,  1806,  483. 
National,  the,  as  compared  to  the 

purely  human,  196. 
"Natural  Daughter,  The,"  444,  461 

etseq.,  473  et  seq. 
Natural  sciences,  489. 
Nature,  descriptions  of,   in   "  Wer- 

ther,"  158. 
"Natur  (Die)   der  Dinge,"  heroic 

poem  by  Wieland,  240. 
Necessarianism,  460  et  seq.,  500. 
Necessity    of    the    events    in    the 

"Elective  Affinities,"  468. 
New  generation  in  Germany,  475. 
Newspapers,  no,   in   the    XVIIIth 

century,  262. 
Newton,  459. 
Nibelungen,  436. 


Nicolai's  novel,  "  Sebaldus  Nothan- 
ker,"  197. 

"  Noachide"  by  Wieland,  240. 

Nobility  in  Tlmringia,  400  ;  in  the 
XVIIIth  century,  233. 

Nobility,  position  of  the,  in  Ger- 
many, 272;  no  nobleman  among 
Goethe's  friends  in  his  youth, 
234. 

Noble,  the,  in  opposition  to  the 
Common,  89  et  seq. 

North  German)',  409,  523. 

"Nouvelle  Heloise"  of  Rousseau, 
152  et  seq. 

Novel,  history  of  the,  149  et  seq. 

Novel  writers,  their  rise  in  Jena, 
477  et  seq.  ;  romantic  school,  417 
et  seq.  ;  romances  and  ballads  of 
Goethe,  291. 

Objectivity  of  the  Hebrew  mind, 
203. 

Odes  the,  of  Klopstock,  428 ;  of 
Eamler,  429. 

Odyssey,  422. 

Oeser,  317  ;  Frederika  Oeser,  151. 

Olympia,  excavations  in,  320. 

"Once  upon  a  time  there  was," 
in  Greek  history,  305. 

Opera,  genesis  of  the,  284  ;  differ- 
ence of  the  beginnings  of  the 
opera  and  the  drama,  284  ;  libret- 
tos, 285. 

Ophelia  and  Gretchen,  494. 

Orestes,  character  in  "Iphigenia," 
289,  426. 

Oriental  legend,  250. 

Ossian,  159. 

Ottilie,  464  et  seq.,  470  ;  as  Gretch- 
en's  elder  sister,  507  ;  fatal  effect 
of  her  fault,  468. 

Otto  the  Great,  492. 

Padua,  298,  348. 
Paintings  of  Mary,  103,  162. 
Palaces   of  the  cardinals  places  of 
resort  for  the  learned,  313. 


INDEX. 


553 


Palatinate,  319. 

Palazzo,  Farnese  in  Rome,  349   et 

seq. 
Palm-tree,  Goethe's  in  Padua,  348  ; 

in  Villa  Malta,  348  ;  palm-trees 

in  German}',  305. 
Pamela,  1740,  151. 
Paris,  37,  350  ;  Goethe's  intended 

journey  to  Paris  and  Italy,  37  ; 

Voltaire    and    Parisian    society, 

51. 
Partnership,  Schiller  and   Goethe, 

405,  416. 

Passionate  element  not  intention- 
ally expressed   in  "  Elective  Af- 
finities," 471. 
"Pausias,   The  New,"  and    "The 

Flower  Maiden,"  427. 
Peasants'  War,  the,  101. 
Pempelfort,  186. 
Penelope,  495. 
Personal  events,  426. 
Petrarch,  165. 
Phidias,  305,  425. 
Philanthropists    in    the    XVIIIth 

century,  167  et  seq. 
Philina,  277,  438  et  seq. 
Philosophers,  207  ;  in  the  XVIIIth 

century,  51. 

Philosophy,  why  we  study,  201. 
Photographic  portraits,  57. 
Phrenology,  205. 
Physicians  and  the  public,  171. 
"Physiognomical    Fragments"    of 

Lavater,  183. 
Pindar,  160,  210,  305. 
Pisa,  351. 

Plants  of  glass,  169. 
Platen's    hexameter,    433 ;    Platen 

and  the  "  Westostliche   Divan," 

521. 
Plato,  196,  305  ;  the  Attic  narrator, 

430. 

Platt  Deutsch,  176,  431  et  seq. 
Plautns,  91,  310. 
Plessing,  61. 
Pliny,  310. 


Poetical  language,  426. 

"Poetizing  creature,"  501. 

Poetry,  the,  of  Homer,  430. 

Police,  assistance  of  the,  desired  on 
account  of  personal  insult  to 
Schiller,  416;  and  the  public, 
171. 

"Political  Treatise,"  by  Spinoza, 
203. 

Popes,  309  ;  the  Papal  government 
in  Rome,  349. 

Popular  epic,  150. 

Popular  element  in  "Egmont," 
373. 

Pre-historic  inhabitants  of  Europe, 
304. 

Present,  the,  feeling  of  its  small 
worth,  1820,  413,  512. 

Preux,  St.,  153  ct  seq. 

Princesses  in  "Tasso,"  340. 

Professional  poetry,  410,  502. 

Progress,  national,  483. 

Propertius,  339,  422. 

Prose  of  the  Ten  Years,  438  ;  of 
"  Werther,"  291 ;  Plato's,  430. 

Protestants,  312. 

Prototype  of  Charlotte  in  the  "  Elec- 
tive Affinities,"  472;  of  Ottilie, 
470  et  seq. 

Prussia,  482  et  seq.;  1806,  476  ;  no- 
bility, 1806,  483. 

Prussian  emperor,  481. 

Public  of  Schiller,  358 ;  the  public 
and  the  "Elective  Affinities,"  469, 
471. 

Punch  in  the  XVIIIth  century, 
87. 

Pylades  in  Frankfort,  68. 

Quadroons  of  America,  305. 
Quietude  of  life  in  the  XVIIIth  cen- 
tury, 262. 

Racine,  32,  92,  95. 
Ramler,  429. 

Ranke,  L.  von,  on  Ferrara  in  his- 
tory, 332. 


554 


INDEX. 


Raphael,  194  d  scq.,  208,  312,  315, 
310,  418,  427;  his  influence  011 
Goethe,  194 ;  youth,  36  ;  age  of, 
91. 

Reading  passion  of  the  Spanish  pub- 
lic in  the  XVIth  century,  150. 
Reality  of  a  poem,  422. 
Reception  of   Shakspeare    in  Ger- 
many, 440. 
Reflection,  the  power  of,  in  Goethe, 

193. 

Reformation,  the  age  of  the,  102. 
Relation  of  modern  humanity  to  the 

cosmos,  454. 
Religion,  170,  197  ;  religious  needs 

of  our  time,  199. 
Rembrandt's  portraiture  of  the  Jews, 

202. 

Renown  of  Goethe  after  the  publi- 
cation of  "Werther,"  164. 
Revolution,   general,  of  matters  in 
Germany  and   Europe  in    1810, 
474. 

Rhine,  the,  129  ;  the  river  of  Goe- 
the's home,  232 ;  song  of  the,  232. 
Rhine,  confederation  of  the,  483. 
Rhine,  country  of  the,  129. 
Rhine,  falls  of  the,  compared  to  Lav- 

ater,  169. 
Rhiye,  journey  of  the,  with  Lavater, 

181  et  seq. 
Rhine  poetry,  129. 
Rhine,  valley  of  the,  359  ;  Celts  and 

Germans  in  the,  303. 
Richardson's  novels,  151  et  seq. 
Richelieu  finds  a  lack  of  esprit  de 

suite  in  Corneille,  264. 
Rierner,  22. 
Rietschel's  statues  of  Goethe   and 

Schiller,  404,  522. 
Rigi,  Goethe  on  its  summit,  223. 
Rinaldo  Rinaldini,  341. 
Rising,  the,  of  1813,  484. 
Robespierre,  432. 
Robinson  Crusoe,  49. 
Robinson,  Goethe's  old  adorer,  341. 
"Roman   Elegies,"   the,  334,  339, 


391,  421,  423  ;   the,   and  Chris- 
tiane,  338. 

Romans,  109  ;  they  lack  the  fabu- 
lous, 305  ;  figure  of  the  Roman 
ladies,  338  ;  fall  of  the  Roman- 
German  empire,  475  ;  Roman  cit- 
izen, 307  ;  comedy  in  the  middle 
ages,  91 ;  literature,  309  ;  politics, 
307  ;  world,  475  ;  history  of  the 
world,  480 ;  the  old,  195,  304  et 
scq. 

Romantic  experiments  of  the  first 
French  Republic,  75. 

Rome,  208,  338  et  seq.;  the  history 
of,  our  world  history,  306  et  seq.; 
Goethe's  Rome  existing  no  more, 
318  ;  Goethe's  second  sojourn  in, 
347 ;  metropolis  of  the  world,  302, 
308,  313;  of  to-day,  311  ;  con- 
templated second  flight  of  Goe- 
the to,  415  ;  ruins  of,  309  ;  as  a 
city,  311 ;  the  Rome  of  1786,  311 ; 
the  most  brilliant  period  of  its 
history,  309,  314. 

Romeo  and  Juliet,  58,  104,  496. 

Rousseau,  50  et  seq.,  75,  111,  456; 
"  Contrat  Social,"  43  ;  "  Emile," 
1762,  152  ;  the  originator  of  the 
idea  of  national  sovereignty,  481  ; 
his  spirit  in  Lavater,  170  ;  "  Xou- 
velle  Heloise,"  17(>0,  152 ;  and 
( 'hristianity,  54 ;  and  the  novel, 
151  et  seq.;  and  the  Germans, 
52. 

Riickert  and  the  "  Westb'stliche  Di- 
van," 521. 

Rugantino,  t'rugantino,  216. 

Rural,  the,  in  the  "  Elective  Affin- 
ities," 473. 

Russian  campaign,  487. 

Russian  officers  at  "Werther's  grave, 
1814,  164. 

Sachsenhausen,  South  German, 
357. 

Salzmann,  40  et  seq. ;  correspond- 
ence with  Goethe,  40,  70. 


INDEX. 


555 


"  Sampson,  Miss Sarah,"by  Leasing, 
50. 

San-Gallo,  349. 

Savigny,  3. 

Saxony,  483. 

Scala  di  Spagna  in  Rome,  349. 

Schaper's  statue  of  Goethe  for  Ber- 
lin, 523. 

Schellirig,  3. 

Schcrer,  Wilhelm,  on  Jacobi,  190. 

Schiller,  3,  9  ct  seq.,  31,  389,  474, 
501  ;  as  a  poet  influenced  by 
Goethe,  412 ;  as  a  politician, 
393,  478  et  seq.,  482  ;  as  pro- 
fessor in  Jena,  392  ;  as  a  writer 
for  the  stage,  412  ;  manner  of 
treating  his  subjects,  410  ;  ac- 
quaintance with  the  bookseller 
Cotta,  392 ;  realizes  his  enor- 
mous capacities,  361  ;  bitter 
criticism  on  Goethe,  1788,  372 
et  seq. ;  needs  a  faction,  359  ; 
letter  to  Goethe  of  August  23, 
1794,  397  et  seq. ;  of  Aug.  31, 
1794,  399;  letters  392;  letters 
to  Goethe,  398  ;  correspond- 
ence with  Cotta,  359,  392  ;  bust 
of,  by  Dannecker  one  of  the  best 
German  busts,  173  ;  correspond- 
ence, 418  ;  visit  of  thanks  at 
Goethe's  in  Dec.  1788,  375  etseq.; 
the  conscious  master  of  German 
prose,  399  ;  his  writing  and  Goe- 
the's, 410  ;  rapid  manner  of 
working,  418  ;  his  entry  at  Wei- 
mar, 255  ;  encourages  Goethe  to 
work,  408  ;  conquers  Goethe, 
394  ;  first  meeting  with  Goethe, 
in  the  summer  of  1788,  368  ; 
372  ;  certificate  of  French  citizen- 
ship, 482  ;  wife,  392,  401  et  seq.; 
Frau,  and  Charlotte  von  Stein, 
256,  403  ;  and  Goethe  in  their 
later  intercourse,  404  ;  female 
characters,  495  ;  friendship  with 
Goethe  the  date  of  Goethe's  sepa- 
ration from  Herder,  406  ;  goes  to 


Jena,  1789,  380  ;  historical  writ- 
ing, 393;  Schiller,  Goethe,  and 
Herder,  406  ;  grand  expecta- 
tion, —  the  meeting  with  Goethe, 
1788,  361 ;  wooes  Lotte  von  Lenge- 
feld,  397  ;  marriage,  400 ;  his 
hopes  of  theatrical  success,  362  ; 
iambics,  329 ;  in  the  imperial 
diet,  397,  492  ;  in  Darmstadt  with 
Carl  August,  1785,  362  ;  gets 
"  Iphigenia  "  and  "  Egmont" 
ready  for  the  stage,  407 ;  in 
Folkstadt  at  Goethe's  return  from 
Italy,  364  ;  in  Weimar,  360  et 
seq.;  events  of  his  youth,  391  ; 
bodily  carriage,  396 ;  adaptive- 
ness,  396  ;  literary  cleverness, 
410 ;  method  in  composition, 
467  ;  to  Leipsic,  1785,  363  ;  to 
Weimar,  1787,  363 ;  calls  his 
youth  "dreary,"  and  "joyless," 
357  ;  new  call  to  Weimar,  405 
et  seq.;  not  able  to  participate  in 
Goethe's  art  studies,  443  ;  orga- 
nizes a  party  in  Jena,  417  ; 
smokes  and  takes  snuff,  396 ; 
criticises  "  Egmont,"  370  et  seq.  ; 
rhetoric,  414  ;  his  ruined  health, 

417  ;  saw  Goethe  the  first  time  in 
1779,  361  ;  debts,  361  ;  mother- 
in-law,  397  et  seq.;  plays  a  part 
iu  "  Clavigo,"  1779,  362  ;  death, 

418  ;  on  Frau  von  Stein,  255  ;  oh 
her  "  Dido,"  256  ;  on  Goethe  to 
Kbrner,  368,  375  ;   and  the  peo- 
ple. 478   et  seq.;  and  the  young 
poets,  411  ;  and  Goethe,  19,  364 
et  seq.;  and  Goethe  as  a  literary 
firm,  416;  and  Goethe's  separation 
a   preparatory  time   of  trial   for 
both,   399  ;   and  Goethe's  weak- 
nesses, 255  ;  and  Moritz  on  Goe- 
the, 377  et  seq.;  and  "Wilhelm 
Meister,"  437  et  seq.;  father,  357, 
397  ;  vain  expectation  of  a  meet- 
ing with  Goethe  in  the  summer  of 
1788,  365  et  seq.;  marriage,  380  ; 


556 


INDEX. 


intercourse  with  Goethe,  409  ; 
"Works,  358  ;  tries  to  lead  Goethe 
to  "  Faust,"  499  ;  ten  years 
younger  than  Goethe,  357  ;  in- 
vited by  Goethe,  September  4, 
1794,  400  ;  recommended  to  a 
professorship  at  Jena,  375  ;  criti- 
cised by  Goethe  twenty  years 
after  his  death,  414  ;  second  son, 
463. 

Schlegel,  August  Wilhelm  von,  3, 
396,  501  ;  his  iambics,  329. 

Schlegel,  Frederick,  abdicates  North 
Germany,  409. 

Schleswig-Holstein,  176,  435. 

Schlosser,  engaged  to  Goethe's 
sister,  134. 

Schmidt,  Julian,  on  Jacobi,  189. 

Schmoll,  182. 

Scholl,  186  ;  on  Goethe's  official 
activity,  248,  266. 

Schroeter,  Corona,  277. 

Science  and  art  identical,  459. 

Secret,  the  great,  of  Nature,  450  et 
seq.;  the  gigantic,  of  Nature,  456. 

Sects,  in  the  XVII  1th  century,  197. 

Seidel,  Philip,  324,  334  ;  the  only 
person  in  Weimar  who  knew  about 
Goethe's  journey  to  Italy,  326. 

Seidler,  Luise,  488. 

Semitics,  195. 

Seseuheim,  58etseq.,  127  ;  Goethe's 
behavior  at,  and  his  own  account 
of  it,  69  ;  love  affair  at,  70  ;  visit 
in,  1779,  71  et  seq. 

Several  Ottilies  and  several  Lottes, 
472. 

Shakspeare,  4  et  seq.,  16,  32,  34, 
43,  90,  105,  114,  168,  196  et  seq., 
424  ;  his  influence  on  Goethe, 
194  ;  modern  tendency  to  detract 
from,  168  ;  translated  by  Wie- 
land,  240. 

Sicily,  343,  346. 

Sidonius  Apollinaiis,  90. 

Siegfrid,  492. 

Siege  of  Mentz,  1793,  390. 


Sienna,  351. 

Simrock,  129. 

Situation  of  the  "  Nouvelle  He- 
loise  "  in  "  Faust,"  158. 

Sclaves  emigrate  into  Europe,  195. 

Somnambulist,  Goethe  shows  him- 
self a,  206. 

Sonnets  to  Bettina,  470. 

Sophocles,  424  ;  female  characters 
of,  495. 

South  German,  Goethe  a,  232  ; 
Schiller  a,  357. 

South  Germany,  232,  523. 

Sovereignty  the,  of  the  people,  479. 

Spanish  Theatre,  91. 

Spinoza,  192  et  seq.;  269,  450,  469, 
514 ;  his  influence  on  Goethe, 
196  ;  ethics,  201  ;  bora  1632  at 
Amsterdam,  201  ;  Latin,  204  ; 
"Political  Treatise,"  203;  dies 
at  the  age  of  45,  203  ;  system, 
201  ;  banished  from  Amsterdam, 
202. 

Spiritual  marriage,  190. 

Spring,  169;  of  1781,  263. 

Stael,  Mme.  de,  her  opinion  of 
"  Wilhelm  Meister,"  439. 

Stahr,  the  oldest  edition  of  "  Iphi- 
genia,"  295. 

"  Stein,  Charlotte  von,  Goethe's 
friend,"  by.Diintzer,  250. 

Stein,  Fran  von,  247  et  seq.,  275, 
335,  365,  383  et  seq.,  389,  403, 
524 ;  notices  the  change  in 
Goethe  after  his  return  from 
Italy,  366  ct  seq.;  the  "llau.s- 
frau,"  262  ;  an  old  woman, 
1810,  474;  Goethe  to,  about 
Frederika,  73  ;  Goethe's  letters 
to,  256  et  seq. ;  criticism  on*her 
intercourse  with  Goethe,  251,  257 
et  seq. ;  after  her  rupture  with 
Goethe,  256  ;  after  Goethe's  Ital- 
ian journey,  353  ;  her  silhouette, 
258  ;  that  she  was  to  have  been 
Goethe's  mistress,  an  unneces- 
sary hypothesis,  251  ;  her  interest 


INDEX. 


in  Goethe's  creations,  262  ;  change 
in  the  relation  of  Goethe  to  her, 
257,  260  ;  and  Calypso,  249  ;  and 
the  "Elective  Affinities,"  462  et 
scq.  ;  and  ' '  Iphigenia,"  288,  327; 
and  "Tasso,"  331  ;  Goethe's  rela- 
tion to  her  in  latest  times,  254  ; 
reconciliation  with  Goethe,  463. 

Stein,  Fritz  von,  254. 

Stein,  Herr  von,  465  et  seq. 

Steinhauser's  collossal  statue  of 
Goethe  at  Weimar,  522. 

Stella,  213  et  seq. 

Sternheim,  Fraulein  von,  131. 

Stolberg,  the  counts  of,  221  et  seq., 
292  ;  their  language,  222  ;  and 
Klopstock,  246  ;  Augusta  count- 
ess of  (Gustchen),  217,  220,  222  ; 
Goethe's  letter  to  her  in  1776, 
246  ;  Leopold  von,  333. 

Strasburg,  196,  215,  314,  518; 
Archbishop  de  Rohan  of,  106  ; 
French  theatre  at,  98  ;  the  inn, 
"  Zum  Geist,"  at,  38  ;  Goethe 
on  the  cathedral  of,  359  ;  Gbtz  von 
Berlichingen  at,  105  ;  Miss  Lauth 
in,  40,  42  ;  life  in,  38  ;  costumes 
of  the  girls  in,  39  ;  times  of,  210. 

Stuart,  Mary,  104. 

Study  of  the  classic  languages  to- 
day in  poor  repute,  434. 

Study  of  philosophy,  201. 

Stuttgard,  362  ;  Danuecker's  works 
in,  at  present,  173. 

Style,  423  et  seq. ;  carelessness 
of,  in  the  "  Elective  Affinities," 
468  ;  finished,  in  Schiller's  and 
Goethe's  works,  501  ;  the,  of 
Schiller,  358  ;  Lotte  Schiller's 
epistolary,  402. 

Suabian,  Schiller  a,  357. 

Substantives  in  Homer,  430. 

Success,  411. 

Suetonic  phrases  in  Einhardt,  91. 

Suicide,  156;  Goethe's  suicidal 
thoughts,  514. 

Supreme  court  at  Wetzlar,  117. 


Swiss,  176. 

Swiss  dialect  of  Lavater,  176. 

Syntax  of  Plato,  430. 

Tacitus,  83,  177,  194. 

"  Tasso,"  18,  150,  263,  328  et  seq., 
340,  385,  391,  426,  492  ;  work 
on,  1780,  281  et  seq.;  construc- 
tion of,  332  ;  "  Tasso  "  in  prose, 
328 ;  the  fruit  of  Goethe's  long- 
ing for  Italy,  328  ;  compared  to 
"Faust,"  496  et  seq.  ;  a  perfect 
work,  332. 

Tasso,  "  an  enhanced  "Werther," 
330. 

"Tell,  Wilhelm,"  418,  479. 

Ten  Years,  the,  18,  247,  264,  278, 
385 ;  the,  no  invention  of  the 
critics,  249. 

Theatre,  English,  91  ;  French,  91 ; 
heroes  in  the,  492  ;  in  Italy  in  the 
XVth  and  XVIth  centuries,  285 ; 
modern  European,  90 ;  of  San 
Crisostomo  in  Venice,  300  et  seq. 

Theology,  207,  212 ;  princely  theo- 
logic-literary  position  of  Klop- 
stock, 211. 

"Thirty-years  War,"  28,  47. 

Thoas  and  Carl  August,  289. 

Thucydides,  305. 

Thuringia,  232 ;  Goethe's  new  coun- 
try, 261 ;  forest  of  ,  261. 

Tibullus,  339. 

Tischbein,  348. 

Titania,  330. 

Titian,  427. 

"  To  lard  the  fat  "  (Speck  spicken), 
268. 

Translations  of  "  Faust,"  494. 

Trilogy  in  "The  Natural  Daugh- 
ter," 462. 

Triumvirs  of  love,  339. 

Trojan  plains,  422. 

Turckheim,  von,  230. 

Turn  in  Goethe's  cosmic  views,  457 
et  seq.,  467. 

Twistings  of  moral  qualities,  458. 


558 


INDEX. 


Tyrants,  the  blood  of,  221. 

Uncertainty  in  Goethe's  treatment 
of  language  after  1776,  292. 

Universal,  the,  Goethe's  impulse  to 
go  into,  315. 

Universities,  459. 

"Uriel  Acosta,"  by  Gutzkow,  202. 

Vagabondism    in    German    fiction, 

216. 

Valentin  in  "Faust,"  512. 
Vatican,  319. 
Vega,  Lope  de,  91. 
Venice,  299. 

"  Venetian  Epigrams,"  390. 
Verona,  298. 
Vesuvius,  316. 
"  Vicar  of  Wakefield,"  59,  62,  69  el 

seq.,  151,  162,  165,  510. 
Vicenza,  293. 
Vienna,  32  ;  Congress  of,  488  ;  and 

Rome,  319. 
Villa  Ludovisi,  349. 
Villa  Pamphili  Doria,  349. 
Virtue,  34, 
Vogt,  Carl,  204. 
"Voila  un  homme,"  486. 
Voltaire,  3  ct  scq. ,  50  c,l  scq. ,  93  rf  srq. , 

165,    456  ;    as   a   historian,    51  ; 

writes  poetry  at  the  age  of  twelve, 

239  ;    his     "  Henriade  "    plaeol 

higher  than   Homer's  songs,  211  ; 

tragedies  .of,    92  ;  and   the    I  !er- 

mans,  52  ;  and  Schiller,  359. 
Voss,   435  ;    the    discoverer  of  epic 

German,  42!)  ;  his  "  Luise,"4:>-J  ; 

and  the  German  hexameter,  4:.".', 

431  ct  scq.;   visit  of  his  son   at 

Schiller's,  418. 
Vulpius,    Goethe's    brother-in-law, 

341. 

Wagner  in  "Faust,"  512. 
Wagner,    Heiurich   Leopold,  41    ct 

scq. 
"  Wahrheit  uud  Dichtung,"  22. 


"Wallenstein,"  418,  479. 

"  Wanderer's  Storm  Song," 

Wartburg,  262. 

Wattean,  258. 

Weimar,  12,  347,  486,  522  ;  foun- 
tain in  front  of  Goethe's  house 
at,  518  ;  plundered,  1806,  477  ; 
Goethe's  appearance,  in,  24  ; 
Goethe's  chosen  retreat,  523  ; 
Goethe's  real  university,  386  ; 
Court  Theatre  at,  390  ;  com- 
pared to  Frankfort,  232  ;  park  of, 
261  ;  castle  and  theatre  of,  de- 
stroyed by  fire,  283  ;  and  Goethe, 
275  ;  and  Jena,  386  ;  the  friendly 
boundary  between  South  and 
North  Germany,  523 ;  pilgrim- 
ages to,  490  ;  archives  of,  235  ; 
library,  446  ;  existence,  335  ;  first 
days  of  Goethe  at,  277  ;  friends 
of  Goethe,  352  ;  society,  244 ; 
princes  at  Frankfort,  226  ;  thea- 
tre under  Goethe,  407. 

Weimar,  Bernhardt  von,  281. 

Weislingen,  110,  113. 

Wcntzel's  "  Goethe  in  Silesia,"  390. 

"  Werther,"  117  ct  scq.,  142,  358, 
467,  473,  507  ;  1786,  504 ;  first  be- 
ginnings of,  136  ;  fragmentary 
compared  with  "  Faust,"  496  et 
scq. ;  "  Werther"  and  the  German 
public,  146  ct  scq.;  and  Eousseau's 
"Nouvelle  Heloise,"  152;  re- 
fused by  a  bookseller,  142. 

Werther,  character  of,  154  ;  dress 
of,  copied  by  young  Germans, 
164  ;  plus  "Faust,"  516  ;  com- 
pared with  St.  Preux,  154  et  scq. 

"  Werther's  Well"  in  Wetzlar,  164. 

"  Westb'stliche  Divan,"  521  et  seq. 

Wetterau,  261. 

Wetzlar,  117,  215  ;  and  "Sorrows 
of  Werther,"  164. 

Wiedennann,  Freiherr  von,  36. 

Wieland,  3,  35,  130,  160,  185,  393, 
421,  474;  always  an  imitator, 
240  ;  at  Bodmer's  in  Zurich,  240  ; 


INDEX. 


559 


letter  to  Gluck,  July  14,  1776, 
286  ;   letters,   239  ;    born,  1733, 

239  ;  in  Bern,  240  ;  in  Biberach, 

240  ;   in  the  history  of  German 
literature,  239  et  seq.  ;  in  Erfurt, 
240  ;    settles  at  Weimar,  1772, 
243;  "Oberon,"  244;  editor  of 
the    "German   Mercury,"    239; 
translates  Shakspeare,  240  ;  and 
Carl  August,    242 ;    at    Weimar 
when  Goethe  arrives,  238. 

"Wilhelm  Meister,"  18,  216,  263, 
421,  437  et  seq. ,  473  ;  origin  of, 
438  ;  Goethe,  in  August,  1782, 
on,  281  ;  contents  of,  274  ct  seq. 

Wilhelmstlial,  262. 

Willemer,  Marianne,  521. 

Winckelmann,  3,  31,  312  ;  letters 
to  Berendis,  313 ;  letters  pub- 
lished by  Goethe,  316,  443  ;  mur- 
der of,  317  ;  in  Rome,  315  et  seq.; 
life  by  Justi,  317  ;  his  influence, 
317. 

"Wine  and  beer,  232. 

"Woldemar,"  Jacobi's  novel,  189  et 
seq.;  nailed  to  a  tree  in  Etters- 
burg,  191  ;  carried  off  by  the 
devil,  191. 

Wolfram  of  Eschenbach  as  a  delin- 
eator of  Nature,  159. 


Wolf  and  the   Homeric  question, 

406  ;  his  translation  of  Homer, 

434. 
Wolmar,   Von,   in  the  "  Nouvelle 

Heloise,"  162. 

Wolzogen,  Caroline  von,  485. 
World-wide  fame   of  Goethe  dates 

from     the     appearance     of     his 

"Faust,"  491. 

Worship  of  reason  in  France,  75. 
Worthlessness  of  the  present  (1820), 

489. 

Xantippe,  342. 

"Xenien,"  437  ;    "  Xenienkampf," 

416  et  seq. 
Xerxes,  304. 

York,  485. 

Youthful  Goethe,  the  ("Jungen 
Goethe"),  21. 

Youthful  powers  of  Goethe,  506. 

Youths  endowed  with  the  rhyming 
faculty,  Goethe  and  Schiller's 
different  treatment  of,  411. 

Zoppritz,  186. 
Zuleika,  471,  521. 
Zurich  dialect,  175. 


University  Press  :  John  Wilson  &  Son,  Cambridge. 


